


The Sweetest Downfall

by dracoqueen22



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji's always wanted to be a hero, but this time, he may have bitten off more than he can chew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lies, the Truth

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this by the doujinshi called Nijiiro Sunshine by Koiwazurai Shibito and the one I read was scanlated by Dangerous Pleasure. There was no Gin/Renji in the dj, I added that on my own. 
> 
> Please keep in mind, while reading, this was written sometime in 2010 so present canonical details do not apply.

Ikkaku-san wasn't going easy on Renji.   
  
Inquiring fingers found clots of blood on his scalp and clods of dirt entangled in his hair, souvenirs from their sparring match. Bruises were sure to follow. But if tomorrow's aches and pains were what it took to get stronger, he was willing to pay the price.   
  
“Yo, Abarai-san!”  
  
“Hey, Abarai-san!”  
  
Renji grinned and raised a hand. It was nice to be noticed, to be appreciated for the strength he did have, even if it wasn't enough yet. Surpassing Kuchiki Byakuya still seemed like a distant goal.   
  
His height, his hair, his tattoos, many people had come to recognize him for his distinct appearance. Or at least, he assumed so. He wasn't high enough in the eleventh division to be noted for that; he was only the sixth seat.  
  
He shifted the position of the bucket of supplies on his arm, hearing the bottles and soaps clink together. His scalp itched and Renji dug a finger into the base of his ponytail, failing to notice the shower of soil that followed his action.  
  
“Evening, Abarai-san.”  
  
Another familiar face. Renji glanced over his shoulder and lifted a hand in greeting, attention diverted.   
  
Rounding a corner, he slammed into someone else. Renji caught a flash of blond hair as he quickly juggled his stuff, struggling not to drop it everywhere as the other person practically bounced off him. “Ah. Sorry, Kira.”  
  
The other Shinigami smiled gently at him, the smile as always not reaching his eyes. “No problem,” Kira replied, and looked him over appraisingly, lifting one brow. “Long day?”  
  
Kira's pale fingers pulled up his disordered shitagi, but not before Renji caught a glimpse of reddened marks in his flesh. Love bites? He hadn't even known that Kira had a girlfriend, much less one who would give him such obvious marks.  
  
“Yeah.” Renji's answer was absentminded, however.  
  
“Ikkaku-san was helpin' me train again,” Renji added, flushing when he realized he had been staring for what was probably longer than polite.  
  
Kira, for his part, didn't seem to notice. “Any closer to bankai?” He shifted his basket to a different hip; he must have just come from the baths.   
  
Renji shrugged, somehow bothered by those obvious marks. They looked fresh, which sparked Renji's curiosity. “Mebbe. It's harder than I thought it would be,” he replied offhandedly before glancing at his friend with a sly look. “But it seems like you got lucky?”  
  
Scarlet spread across Kira's cheeks, which Renji found cute even as the shorter man attempted to feign ignorance. “I-- I don't know what you mean.”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Renji reached out with a free hand and poked Kira's collarbone, where his shihakushou covered the burgeoning mark. “These, baka. Ya gonna tell me who she is or do I haveta find out on my own?”  
  
“There's nothing to tell,” Kira repeated, with more force this time, though the furious flush on his face seemed to say otherwise.  
  
Grinning, Renji was suddenly struck with a spot of inspiration. Not the sharpest tool in the shed according to his friends, he did have them, occasionally. “It's not Hinamori, is it?”  
  
“Abarai-kun!” Kira seemed aghast, and Renji had to fight back the urge to laugh. “It's really nothing. You shouldn't pry!”  
  
“Come on. You don't get those on yer own.”  
  
Shaking his head, Kira edged around him, looking very much like a bright-eyed rabbit trying to escape the big, bad wolf. “I have to get going, Abarai-kun. Really.”  
  
Lifting a brow, Renji didn't believe him for a second. But he let the blond slide, at least for now. Clearly he'd embarrassed Kira. Though he couldn't think why. It wasn't anything to be ashamed of. Everyone had urges. It wasn't like they were all celibate or anything. Then again, Kira was from one of those upright and proper families, minor nobility, in fact.  
  
Rubbing the back of his head, Renji decided to let Kira go for now. “Che. Fine. Just don't forget we're drinking with Hisagi-senpai and Ikkaku-san on Thursday.”  
  
If he wasn't looking for it, he wouldn't have seen it. There was a barely perceptible wince before Kira inclined his head. “I won't. Enjoy your bath.” And with that, Kira continued down the hallway, greeting a few of the younger ones as he passed. To them, too, he gave a small smile.  
  
In his wake, Renji blinked in faint confusion. Kira was acting pretty weird. Then again, the blond had always been a little strange. Nothing new there.  
  
Renji hefted his basket and continued towards the baths. His hair needed to be scrubbed, and the longer he let the mess stay in, the harder it would get to work out. He didn't need anyone teasing him about being vain again. Jealous bastards.  
  
By paying attention, Renji managed to successfully evade the next person coming down the hall, though he was surprised as hell to see him. “Ichimaru-taichou!” he exclaimed in shock.  
  
“Yo!” The silver-haired captain lifted a hand in greeting, lips stretched in his usual, eerie grin. “Nice ta see ya agin, Abarai-kun.” Self-satisfaction poured from Ichimaru in waves.  
  
Didn't the captains all have private quarters, with their own baths? What was he doing here in the central bathing rooms?  
  
“Er, yeah, same to you,” Renji replied, unconsciously backpedaling a pace. Ichimaru's reiatsu slithered through the corridor, dousing Renji in a discomfiting surge of power.  
  
That was the extent of the conversation, though, as Ichimaru-taichou continued down the corridor, paying no mind to the odd looks he garnered from the lower seats; but then, unusually for any captain, he was not wearing his haori of rank. He had always been an odd character, never one to follow tradition. Renji just didn't understand that guy.  
  
Sighing under his breath, Renji resolved not to think about it. He had better things to do.  


~

  
  
Whistling, Renji shoved his hands in his pockets and casually strolled through the third division, feeling out of place. There was something about the third that was a bit dreary. The windows were open, letting in lots of light, but it still seemed enclosed and stuffy. As if shadows gathered in every corner.  
  
His footsteps echoed loudly, too. The very place screamed of silence, and he felt like he stood out immensely. The lower seats he passed were less than friendly, barely acknowledging his presence. Renji frowned.   
  
There was a reason he seldom came here, but he had said he would come pick up Kira. Sometimes the blond worked too long and forgot about prior engagements. Renji wasn't letting him wriggle out of this as he had the past Thursday, with some bullshit excuse about his captain and too much paperwork.  
  
Renji tried to shake off the eerie feeling that the third division gave him and continued down the hall. Unlike the eleventh division, the third had their captain's and vice-captain's rooms at the end of a long hall, isolated from the others. Renji thought that was kind of odd, but far be it from him to question Ichimaru-taichou.  
  
Though he was a bit early, Renji drew to a halt near the closed door of the office. He lifted his hand to knock, but he heard something odd, like a gasp, or a moan. Blinking in confusion, Renji dropped his hand from the door, and he held his breath, trying to catch the noise again.  
  
There was a rustle, like fabric, and the sound of something hitting the ground, a low thump. And yeah, that was definitely a low moan, throaty and erotic. Despite himself, Renji found it enticing. His ears burned, but he couldn't stop listening, curiosity overriding his sense of propriety. If he'd ever had one.  
  
The door was open just a slit, enough for him to peek inside. And it took all his effort not to gasp, biting down on his hand to keep his noises to himself.  
  
“Ichimaru-taichou, I've got to--”  
  
“Not yet, Izuru-chan,” Ichimaru purred, and he shifted in some sort of sudden motion that made Kira cry out loudly, tone filled with pleasure. The sound made something shiver down Renji's spine.  
  
He'd never had any interest in men before.  
  
They were... they were having sex.   
  
He couldn't see much, but he could tell that Kira's back was to the door, and that he was sitting in his captain's lap. His shitagi had fallen down, bunching around his waist, leaving his pale skin bare to the cool air. His pale, unmarked skin, soft and smooth, like a girl's.  
  
And as he watched, Ichimaru ran his long-fingered hands over it.  
  
Ichimaru licked Kira's throat as Kira threw his head back, giving Renji a glimpse of the red flush that stained his cheeks. Kira looked... really sexy like that, his body painted in a light sheen of sweat, those soft, encouraging moans coming from his lips. His fingers were clenched tightly on his captain's still-clad shoulders, kneading in and out as his captain thrust into him.   
  
Renji was no stranger to homosexual intercourse. He hadn't experienced it himself, but he knew how it worked. And he knew that it happened. Shinigami lived for a long time, after all. At some point in a long afterlife filled with danger, it stopped mattering what gender your partner was, and all that counted was whether you were compatible.  
  
Still, he hadn't known about Kira. Or Ichimaru-taichou for that matter. That they were together was enough to make his mind stutter.   
  
The reason for the marks on Kira's skin suddenly made a hell of a lot of sense, as did his fatigue and the occasional haunted look in his eyes.  
  
Renji was pretty sure this sort of relationship between captain and vice-captain was against the rules. Even amongst lower seats it was frowned upon, especially from the same division. The captain-commander would definitely not approve. Renji couldn't tell anyone; not without placing Kira's position in danger.   
  
Was it even consensual?   
  
“T-taichou,” Kira gasped, his body shaking in Ichimaru's grasp.  
  
The captain murmured something incoherent, his lips sliding from Kira's throat to capture his lips.   
  
Renji found his feet scurrying away in escape, though there was no need for one. His physical arousal was a perfectly normal reaction, he told himself. It only happened because Kira'd looked really sexy like that, and he himself had been celibate a while, so it was a perfectly normal reaction. A _perfectly_ normal reaction.   
  
Wasn't it?  
  
He worried though, even as he went quickly back down the hall, determined to wait for Kira somewhere else. He knew how intimidating Ichimaru-taichou could be, and that Kira was all too easily swayed. What if the blond was only being played with? And those marks ... what if it was just painful for him? Ichimaru wasn't exactly the most well-liked of the captains. And he was really fucking weird. Certainly Rukia had never liked him, and she was a damn good judge of character.   
  
He leaned against the wall, almost unaware of members of the third division passing by, immersed in his thoughts. Agitated, Renji tugged at his ponytail, a distinctly nervous habit.   
  
“Abarai-kun.”  
  
Renji nearly jumped three feet in the air when the voice suddenly broke into his reverie. He turned to see Kira approaching, all smiles, a little out of breath. He was dressed again, but he looked tired. And definitely worked over. In fact, one hand carefully reordered his hair.  
  
“There ya are,” Renji returned, attempting something like normalcy, even though he could hear the sound of Kira's gasps in the back of his head. “I've been waitin' forever.”  
  
“Sorry.” Kira came to a halt beside Renji, bowing his head faintly. “I had some last-minute paperwork to finish up.”  
  
Paperwork. Was that what they were calling it these days? Oh, Renji had seen papers, scattered all over the floor. As well as a tipped inkwell. But if they were doing paperwork, then he was going to cut his hair and join the Kidoushuu.  
  
“S'okay,” he said dismissively, not wanting to hint at what he had seen. Still, he scanned Kira, looking for any evidence of their “paperwork”. “Ichimaru-taichou ... he's a harsh captain, isn't he?”  
  
Kira frowned as they started walking, heading out of the division and towards that part of Rukongai where all the best, for which read “worst,” bars were located. “Not any more than the others. Why?”  
  
Renji shrugged offhandedly, though subtlety was definitely not his strong point. “Ya always look so tired, s'all. I was just wonderin'.”  
  
To his surprise, Kira flushed red. “Do I? I hadn't noticed.”  
  
“Just a bit.” Renji glanced again, swearing he could see a red mark half-hidden by the collar of Kira's shihakushou. “Does he help ya train?”  
  
“Sometimes. Why all the questions, Abarai-kun?” Those blue eyes were watching him suspiciously now; Renji had never been so curious before.  
  
He stuttered a bit, searching for a good reason. “Can't a guy be concerned for his friend?” he demanded a bit defensively. “You didn't used to get bruised so easy, ya know?”  
  
“That's because everyone took it easy on me,” Kira retorted, bristling. “But Ichimaru-taichou doesn't, and I'm glad he doesn't.”  
  
Yeah, Renji could pretty clearly see that. Ichimaru-taichou wasn't exactly a kind and gentle person. But, Renji reminded himself, he didn't know the whole picture. He doubted he could get Kira to spill the details, and the blond had made it clear that he couldn't ask.  
  
“Okay, okay.” He held up his hands, trying to calm Kira before he got defensive and angry. “I'm sorry. Didn't mean ta offend.”  
  
He watched as Kira smiled, offense forgotten. Renji, who had quite the temper of his own, always wondered how the blond could do that. Kira easily forgave everyone, and he was the last person Renji would ever suspect of holding a grudge.   
  
“It's okay. Everyone's always suspicious of taichou. I often find myself defending him. They don't know him as I do,” Kira responded.   
  
_I should fucking well hope_ , Renji thought.   
  
Ichimaru creeped everyone out. The way he smiled, the way he mocked people in that you'd-think-it-was-cheerful tone of his. And he had a way of looking at you that left an eerie chill in your spine. No, Renji himself wasn't too fond of Ichimaru-taichou.  
  
He kept these thoughts unvoiced, however. He might not have had the same upbringing as the nobles, but he knew enough not to hurt Kira's feelings. Kira was proud of his new position, proud of being the vice-captain. And he'd worked hard to get that far. Renji wasn't going to mock his effort.  
  
“Like I said, I don't want to offend ya over yer new taichou,” Renji continued, slipping a finger under the edge of his bandanna and shifting it around in lieu of tugging on his ponytail. “How about that drink, ne?”  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
And that was the end of that conversation, but Renji was not quite convinced. Because when Kira turned away from him, moving ahead, he caught sight of something behind the blond's collar and a strand of his hair. There were marks, teeth marks to be more precise, not quite bleeding but pretty damn close. Reddened, harsh, and very obvious were it not for the concealment of his shihakushou. With Kira's skills from the fourth, he could have healed it easily.  
  
Renji wondered if Ichimaru wouldn't let him. And he realized, in that moment, that he couldn't let what he had seen lie.  


~

  
  
Renji agonized over his predicament for several days, so much so that it distracted him from his usual training.   
  
And at night, he dreamed of things he wasn't supposed to have seen.   
  
It became tiresome to change his sheets.  
  
Renji had difficulty looking his best friend in the eyes. All he could think about was the sound of Kira's voice, crying out his captain's name, and those reddened marks.  
  
Renji knew that he had to ask someone for advice.   
  
Unfortunately, most of his friends were idiots. And while he could go to Ayasegawa-san, he wasn't going to. The fifth seat was the ringleader of a rumor mill, and then there was the amount of teasing Renji would have to suffer. He would have liked to talk to Rukia, but that just wasn't possible. Not anymore. Which left him few other options.  
  
That was why he found himself heading towards the fifth division and the office of his former captain. If there was one person in the Gotei-13 he was certain he could count on, it was Aizen-taichou. The man was dependable, capable, not given to gossiping, very well-respected within the Gotei-13; he would never forget how Aizen had chosen Renji fresh from the Academy to join his division.  
  
He would be able to offer Renji some advice   
  
Unlike the third, the fifth division was busy. Everywhere he looked, lower seats were practicing one form or another. Or Shinigami were moving here and there, carrying what were probably important documents. There was a low buzz of continuous conversation, and he was politely greeted. A few he recognized as kouhai from the Academy. Had it really been that long?  
  
Drawing to a halt before the main office, he found the door wide open, as though offering invitation to step inside. It was just as it had been when he was only a lower seat in the fifth. Rapping his knuckles on the door to announce his presence, Renji stepped inside, Hinamori looking up from her paperwork as he did so.  
  
“Yo, Hinamori-fukutaichou,” he called out, lifting a hand in greeting.  
  
“Hello, Renji-kun,” she replied, smiling pleasantly. “Did Zaraki-taichou send you?”  
  
He shook his head, casually glancing around the office and noting just how neat and ordered everything was. Practically spotless and gleaming. “No. He'd send one of the others if he had somethin' important to say.” Not that Zaraki-taichou ever really made great efforts to contact the other captains. “Is Aizen-taichou in?”  
  
The smile that lit Hinamori's face at just the mention of her captain was nearly blinding. “Yes.”  
  
Both of his friends were pretty fucking weird, though Renji highly doubted Aizen had any sort of sexual relationship going on with Hinamori. That would be like... a father and his daughter or something. Gross.  
  
“Is he busy?”  
  
As if on cue, the door to the captain's office slid open in that moment, and Aizen-taichou appeared in the aperture. “Hinamori-kun is-- oh, Abarai-kun, how are you today?” Aizen smiled at him, surprised by his appearance, but not visibly upset. A part of Renji felt calmed by seeing him.  
  
“Just fine, thank you, taichou.”  
  
Hinamori was already looking up at her captain expectantly, rising to her feet and abandoning her paperwork. “Did you need something, Aizen-taichou?”  
  
Behind his glasses, Aizen shifted his attention back to his vice-captain, reminded of the reason he had emerged from his office in the first place. “Oh, right. Here are the reports on yesterday's incident. Could you please send them to the first at once?”  
  
Incident? Renji lifted a brow. Not that it was his place to ask. He had thought he heard something about the fifth being sent to deal with some unusual Hollows. Perhaps that was what they were talking about.  
  
“Sure.” Hinamori beamed, taking the envelope that her captain handed her and tucking it under one arm. “See you later, Renji-kun.” And with a wave, the bubbly vice-captain was out the door, never one to argue against any task set before her.  
  
The two men watched her go, and then Aizen shifted his attentions to Renji, a welcoming smile on his lips. “Did you want to speak to me?”  
  
“Yes, sir. If yer not too busy.”  
  
“I certainly have time to chat. Come into the office.” He gestured Renji to follow him, leaving the door open as he stepped back into his office. “How is the eleventh treating you?”  
  
“I fit in well, sir,” Renji replied, coming in after him and sliding the door shut behind them quietly. “Though I'll always thinka' myself as bein' in th' fifth.”  
  
Aizen chuckled lightly, moving to sit behind his desk, overflowing with documents and papers, most of which looked important. “Now, Abarai-kun, you know that you don't have to impress me anymore. The effort was all your own.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.” Despite himself, Renji felt a little embarrassed and ducked his head, certain that his cheeks were probably heated. Praise from Aizen-taichou was something he valued highly.   
  
Organizing a few papers on his desk, Aizen settled comfortably and looked up at him expectantly. “But I'm sure that's not why you came today. What can I help you with?”  
  
Renji shifted awkwardly, knowing what he wanted to ask, but unsure how to voice it. “I sorta needed some advice.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
He nodded, uneasily rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah. It's about a friend of mine.”  
  
“The new addition to the Kuchiki clan?” Aizen posed, frowning slightly as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I believe her name is Rukia. She's a friend of yours, yes?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but no. She's not the one I meant. It's another friend. And I probably shouldn't give his name since it's...” He racked his mind for an appropriate term, but eloquence had never been his forte. “... delicate,” Renji finished, unable to come up with anything better.  
  
“Ah, I understand.” Aizen folded his hands on top of his desk, watching Renji from behind the barrier those heavy, reflective glasses put between him and the rest of the world. “I'll see what I can do to help.”  
  
“Thank you, sir.” Renji found himself looking at the floor, twitching in his unease. “I'm worried about my friend, and don't know how to talk to him about it. Every time I try to ask, he brushes me off.”  
  
Aizen inclined his head, listening intently. “What exactly causes you to worry?”  
  
Renji hesitated, cringing inwardly. Should he go into detail? “There are marks,” he explained, remembering well the sight of them. “And he seems tired all the time.”  
  
“This friend of yours... he is a Shinigami, yes?” And when Renji nodded, Aizen continued,. “Perhaps it's is merely due to training then?”  
  
Renji could feel his face heating, even though he shouldn't be this embarrassed. “It's... uh... it doesn't seem to be that sort of mark. If ya know what I'm saying.”  
  
The captain considered this for several long moments before understanding dawned. “Ah, I see. That is quite delicate.” He rubbed fingers over his chin. “Am I to understand this friend of yours has a lover?”  
  
The blush on his face must have been obvious since Renji could feel it burning at his skin, likely clashing with his hair. In the back of his mind, he could hear them, see them again as he had in his dreams, Kira crying out and Ichimaru pushing into him, Ichimaru's mouth on Kira's throat, Kira wanting more...  
  
He loudly cleared his throat, trying to escape the images before they could affect him the way they had the past few nights. “Yes, sir.”  
  
“Do you suspect abuse?”  
  
“Eh...” Renji rubbed the back of his head, considering the question. “Maybe. I dunno.” He hated that he sounded so uncertain.  
  
“Have you any proof?”  
  
Renji winced. “Not exactly. But I have seen them... together.” He realized he wasn't making a very good case. His half-assed information and tiptoeing around wasn't making things any clearer for Aizen-taichou. He didn't know how he expected the captain to help him when he couldn't even verbalize the issue.  
  
“Hmmm.” Aizen lowered his gaze, one hand drumming fingertips on his desktop. The massive stacks of paperwork seemed even more intimidating in that moment, and Renji felt guilty for interrupting the captain when he was clearly busy.  
  
He started to doubt himself, in that moment. Maybe there wasn't anything to worry about. Maybe he was just overthinking things for once. Those marks could have been caused by regular sparring and such. Kira was a vice-captain after all. He often took part in training new recruits to the division.  
  
It was entirely possible that Renji was only seeing what he wanted to see. That his subtle dislike for Ichimaru caused him to search for some reason to turn the captain into a villain. Honestly, it wasn't like he had much evidence to speak of. He was probably overreacting...  
  
“Perhaps you should try speaking to the other party,” Aizen suggested, cutting into Renji's stuttered thinking and causing him to blink. “Determine for yourself what type of person they are.”  
  
Renji lifted his shoulders, chewing on his bottom lip. “I dunno. I guess that could work.” Renji's forehead crinkled, wrinkling the dark lines of his tattoo. “But wouldn't that be suspicious?”  
  
Aizen balanced his elbows on his desk, leaning forward in his chair. “It depends on how you go about it,” he began, interlacing his fingers.  
  
A sudden knock on the door interrupted him further, Hinamori's voice hesitantly coming through the wood. “Aizen-taichou? I have some papers that Yamamoto-soutaichou needs you to look over. They're Priority First-Class.”  
  
Aizen sighed, smiling warmly at Renji. “Duty calls, it seems, Abarai-kun. I hope I was of some assistance to you.”  
  
“You were.” Renji was bit embarrassed that he had disturbed Aizen for something he was attempting to convince himself was trivial. “Thanks Aizen-taichou.” He bowed.   
  
The captain rose to his feet, neatly catching a stack of documents which sought to topple over. “You're very welcome. Please, do not hesitate to seek out my advice again.”  
  
Warmed by the offer, Renji obediently bowed once more and turned towards the door. As he slid it open, Hinamori slipped past him with a swift greeting. Her eyes were for her captain alone, a happy flush in her cheeks.  
  
He thought, in that moment, that while Hinamori's reactions were a little more reserved, they were far more natural than the strange feeling he got around Kira and Ichimaru. And though he warred with himself as to whether he was wrong or right, that thought wouldn't leave him. Something about their interaction didn't sit well with Renji, and he'd always trusted his instincts before. They'd served him well in Rukongai. It stood to reason they would do the same here.  


~

  
  
Leaving the fifth division main office, Renji's thoughts were no more settled than before. Aizen-taichou had clarified some things, but left him just as confused in others. He was certain there was a problem.  
  
Should he speak to Ichimaru-taichou as Aizen-taichou had suggested? Well, Ichimaru was the root of the problem, though Renji really was a rank too low to have any business speaking to a captain like that. And he wasn't exactly known for being a big fan of Ichimaru's. It would seem presumptuous.  
  
The turmoil made his gut churn unpleasantly. Renji uttered a low curse, startling a passing Shinigami. The unseated officer gave him a strange look, but Renji couldn't be bothered by an apology.  
  
Maybe what he needed was time. Time to figure things out, time to gather a bit more evidence. Time to find proof that there was something rotten going on before he went after Ichimaru. Otherwise, he'd find himself in way over his head.  
  
With that in mind, Renji's resolve firmed and settled. He'd give it a little time. A week, maybe two. And he'd investigate. He wouldn't let Ichimaru get away with it. Or, with luck, it would all just be a figment of his imagination.  
  
He only wished that he were more optimistic.   


~

  
  
Renji hissed as he burned his mouth biting into the taiyaki, his tongue protesting the hot grease. He nearly dropped the food as the wrapper slipped from his fingers, and he frantically tried to chew and swallow the sizzling filling.  
  
Beside him, Kira chuckled and shook his head, having much better success eating his own lunch. “Are you that hungry?”  
  
Mouth burning, Renji could only shake his head and wipe the back of his hand across his lips, trying not to drool everywhere. “I didn't expect it to be so damn hot,” he mumbled around a burning tongue, even as he managed to swallow the huge bite he had taken. Sizzling or not, it was still damn good. That vendor made the best taiyaki in all of Rukongai, he was sure of it.  
  
“You're just impatient,” Kira returned teasingly, smirking a bit as Renji bit into the taiyaku again, despite it being no cooler than before.  
  
Renji shrugged, dropping bits of fried dough onto his shihakushou. “I ain't got a lot of time to eat. 'Specially in the eleventh. Like a pack of wild dogs when it comes ta food in there.”  
  
“I can imagine.” Kira smiled a bit, and picked some more at his food, the plain bento looking far less appetizing to Renji than his own street-bought lunch. It looked more healthy than anything. Who wanted to eat that?  
  
Renji watched Kira from the corner of his eyes, his friend poking with some interest at his food, but not much at all. “The third's probably more dignified, huh?”  
  
“Something like that.” Kira shrugged, and for the first time that day, Renji realized just how tired his friend looked.  
  
Dark circles ringed his bright blue eyes, those eyes that had sparkled with a certain vitality that Renji remembered from the Academy. That had gone, now. His skin seemed even paler in the afternoon sunlight, and Renji caught himself leaning just a bit, trying to peer into the gaps of Kira's shihakushou. He was searching for marks, he realized. For proof of his suspicion.   
  
“So has the third been busy or somethin'?” Renji asked, shooting for nonchalant and failing miserably, subtlety not being among his strengths. “I mean, we hardly ever see ya anymore, ya know?”  
  
Kira poked one last time at his lunch before rewrapping the fabric around the box and tucking it against his side. “We're about as busy as everyone else,” he replied, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky, to watch a cloud float lazily by. “Maybe it just seems that way.”   
  
“Yo! Abarai-san!” One of the passing Shinigami, from the fifth division Renji thought, greeted him with a wave.  
  
Renji tossed the guy a half-hearted salutation, unable to really remember the other Shinigami's name. He hadn't spent that long in the fifth, after all; they'd quickly figured he was better suited to the eleventh, and transferred him out.  
  
Even as they passed the guy, another group of Shinigami waved as well, before returning to their discussion and laughter. Renji barely noticed, too interested in the mess he was making of his own lunch. The filling kept trying to leak onto his fingers.  
  
“You're always so popular, Abarai-kun,” Kira commented suddenly, a small smile on his lips. “Everyone admires you.”  
  
Renji blinked, in the midst of wiping a glob of paste from the corner of his mouth. “Really?” He glanced around, nothing really striking him as out of the ordinary, just a group of the guys from the eleventh waving at him. “I never noticed.”  
  
“No, I don't suppose you would.” It was said in a whisper, almost as if Kira hadn't meant for him to hear. And when Renji looked, the vice-captain was gazing somewhere else, off into the distance. One hand had clasped onto his own arm tightly, as though trying to keep himself from saying anything else.  
  
Renji frowned, wondering how to reply. _Whether_ to reply. Kira was acting pretty strange today. Other than the fact that he looked really tired and worn out. And really, when was the last time he'd gotten an honest smile out of his friend?  
  
Popping the last bit of his taiyaki into his mouth, Renji dropped his hands to his hakama and wiped off the last bits of grease sticking to his fingers. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, his belly warmed from the food.   
  
Glancing around, he looked for a clock and groaned when he realized he'd have to return to the eleventh soon. Lunch time was nearly over.  
  
As he swept his eyes through the Shinigami wandering through the main complex, he caught the flutter of a white scarf from the corner of his eye. He followed it, finding Rukia walking behind Kuchiki Byakuya, her new brother.   
  
It felt strange to see her; they hadn't spoken since her adoption.  
  
“Kuchiki-taichou looks annoyed today,” Kira commented from beside him. Apparently, he had noticed them as well.  
  
Renji hadn't seen that, since his eyes had been for the captain's sister. Rukia, whom Renji had once considered a sibling to him. But it was better this way, having this distance between them, now, he thought. She couldn't have someone like him hanging around her.  
  
Who'd want to stick with Rukongai trash when they could be nobility?   
  
No, still calling her “friend” didn't make any sense to Renji. Still less did having Rukia call him by that title. She could eat good meals and not have to worry about money ever again. She would always have a place to sleep, a family to come home to. Was it so wrong that he wanted that something better for her?  
  
Still... Renji looked at her again. Her eyes were cast towards the ground as she followed in Kuchiki-taichou's wake. Looking, as always, small and dainty in her shihakushou, even with her zanpakutou at her side. Rukia should be smiling, he thought, as he remembered her from their shared childhood. Smiling and scolding and playing tricks, her eyes sparkling with happiness. She should be happy now. He didn't get it.  
  
Renji lifted a hand, slipping a finger under the edge of his headband to scratch. “Ya think she's happy?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop himself.  
  
“Who? Kuchiki-san?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Kira frowned slightly. “Ah, that's right. You guys were friends.” He shifted his gaze to Rukia, glancing over her quickly. “I don't know, Abarai-kun. You should ask her that.”  
  
“She doesn't look happy,” Renji returned, feeling a strange tugging of guilt in his belly. “Maybe...” He trailed off, frustrated.  
  
Maybe what she had wanted then wasn't his agreement or acceptance. Maybe she had wanted him to fight for her presence. To ask her to stay. Maybe he had been wrong. Sometimes, Renji wondered that when he thought about that last look in her eyes.  
  
Kira paused, peering at Renji with those big, blue eyes of his own. “Maybe what?”  
  
He lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched Rukia disappear from view, following along in Kuchiki-taichou's shadow. “Maybe I shouldn't have--”  
  
“Izuru-chan!”  
  
Ichimaru's voice broke through their conversation, causing both men to turn and see the captain coming their direction. One hand was lifted towards them as Ichimaru grinned widely, before dropping it to fold it in the sleeves of his shihakushou.  
  
Kira blinked in surprise. “Ichimaru-taichou? Were you looking for me?”  
  
“Of course!” Ichimaru chirped, and Renji found himself watching their interaction with suspicion. “I needed yer help fer somethin'. Think ya can give me a hand?”  
  
Renji knew what Kira was going to say before he even said it. He nodded and looked at Renji, apology written into his expression.  
  
“I'm sorry to cut our lunch short, Abarai-kun,” Kira said, expressing honest regret, but also all too eager to leap to Ichimaru's bidding.  
  
It made Renji a little sick inside and he cut his eyes at the captain, who seemed too smug for his liking. He could have sworn that the bastard was smirking at him knowingly.  
  
He shrugged in dismissal, proceeding to lie through his teeth. “It's fine,” he said, because it was obviously not fine. Ichimaru had done it on purpose, he was sure of it. “Can't 'xactly ignore yer taichou, can you?”  
  
In lieu of answering, Kira just smiled and joined his captain, giving Renji a parting wave. “We'll catch up later, Abarai-kun.” And then he was gone, apologizing quietly to his captain for the delay, though it was hardly more than a minute.  
  
They walked away, but not before Ichimaru glanced over his shoulder. For a moment, Renji could feel that slitted gaze mocking him, Ichimaru flicking those abnormally long fingers in Renji's direction. And then, the two – captain and subordinate – were gone to whatever Ichimaru would demand of Kira.  
  
Unbidden, Renji thought that it must have had something to do with bruises and marks, with lusty cries, and sweat-slick skin. He shivered.  
  
Renji thought that he could wait and see, just feel out the situation. But not anymore. He was certain that Ichimaru was doing something. That smug superiority was so damn obvious.  
  
He couldn't let that happen to Kira. The blond deserved better than that. And the thought of standing by without saying anything galled him. He couldn't make another mistake and spend his life wondering if Kira was happy or not. Not like he'd done with Rukia  
  
He was going to do something. He just didn't know what.  


* * *


	2. Breaking Slowly

Renji wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here. And he knew it was outside of the rules. He was nowhere high enough in rank to be standing right here, fist raised to knock. But Renji was going to do it anyway. Because he couldn't take it anymore. Kira was falling apart right in front of his eyes, and he had to do something about it. That look in his friend's eyes had been the final straw.   
  
What kind of friend would he be if he just ignored it? Oh, sure he could go to some higher-up. But who would believe his words over another captain's? Aizen-taichou, maybe. And Ukitake-taichou, he was pretty dependable. But then, how would that affect Kira? Would he be dismissed from his position? He'd worked damn hard to get that promotion, and Renji didn't want to be the cause of that seat being taken from him.  
  
If he could just get to the source of the problem, then everything would be fixed. Right? So all he had to do was knock on this damn door. And stand his ground. Even if he was of a significantly lower rank and pretty much an insect in any captain's eyes.   
  
He'd already gone over his options, hadn't he? Who could he tell? And the chance of his being able to successfully pressure Ichimaru was less than zero.   
  
Renji could leave. It wasn't outside of his answer choice. He could turn on his heel, walk away without a word, and pretend he'd never even come here in the first place. He could forget he'd ever seen those bleeding marks, and forget the smile he remembered from the Academy. And forget the strength he was certain that his friend possessed somewhere beneath the burden Ichimaru had buried him under.  
  
He could so easily walk away. And that was where his pride balked. Would he accept this defeat? In the end, which broke his honor more? Which was the greater shame? Could he stomach another failure?   
  
He thought of Rukia, whose eyes should have held nothing but happiness, and yet she seemed to be wallowing in disappointment and sadness. He had walked away then, hadn't he? Would he do the same now?  
  
What had he come here to do?  
  
Renji's knuckles fell forward, but before they even landed on the wood, the door swung open. A thin shadow graced the doorway, dressed in a simple yukata. And Ichimaru Gin grinned at him, leaning one slender limb against the frame.   
  
“Ah, Abarai-kun,” he said, and the purr sent strange shivers down Renji's back, disgust or something darker, he didn't know which. “Ta what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”   
  
Renji gathered what courage he possessed and squared his shoulders, effecting a determination he wasn't certain his shaking knees could back up. Even restrained, Ichimaru's reiatsu was an impressive force. And he suspected that the captain was purposefully letting bits of it loose to rattle him.   
  
He attempted politeness, though just the sight of the captain was enough to make him snarl inwardly. “Apologies fer the lateness of my visit, Ichimaru-taichou. But I wanted ter talk to ya.”   
  
“Oh?” There was too much interest in the captain's tone. It made his skin crawl. “How strange for Abarai-kun to want to speak ta me. What about?”   
  
Renji shifted awkwardly, and then cursed himself for showing such uncertainty. “It's not really somethin' that can be discussed out of doors.”   
  
The grin on Ichimaru's face widened by a fraction more, turning into a smirk. He stepped aside, gesturing into his quarters. A place that Renji was half-afraid to enter, but determined not to back down from either.   
  
“Better step inside then,” Ichimaru suggested, his skin even paler in the eerie half-light spilling from his inner sanctum.   
  
Renji swallowed thickly. “Excuse me,” he muttered and entered, carefully toeing out of his waraji as he did so.   
  
The door slid shut, trapping him.   
  
As odd as the captain was, what Renji could see was pretty normal. Standard decorations and the like. Shinsou was in its stand within sight, and the walls had the occasional picture frame with some kind of poem printed on the matting within.   
  
Ichimaru moved past him, briefly brushing against Renji and causing him to jump. “We're inside now,” the captain helpfully pointed out, heading towards the main room and causing Renji to follow along after him. “So whatcha want to talk to me 'bout?”   
  
Again, Renji was surprised by the normal furniture. He watched as Ichimaru stood in the center of the room, ignoring the seats he had available for company. And as he didn't sit, neither did Renji. Instead, he stood in the doorway, fidgeting and hating himself for it.   
  
He thought about dancing around the situation, but Renji didn't want to be here any longer than necessary. “Kira,” he said bluntly, and was rewarded when Ichimaru lifted an eyebrow of interest.   
  
The captain tilted his head to the side, silvery hair sliding across his forehead. “Is something wrong with Kira-fukutaichou?”   
  
It annoyed him, that Ichimaru would be so formal here, when he always called Kira cutesy names to his face. “Shouldn't you know?” Renji demanded, and it probably came out too belligerent. But Ichimaru pissed him off. “You're his lover, ain't ya?”   
  
“Well, I wouldn' know if we'd call it all tha' now,” Ichimaru returned with a vague gesture, something in his odd-ass grin shifting just a bit. “Why so curious?”   
  
Renji twitched awkwardly, hating how nonchalantly Ichimaru was treating this conversation, when Renji was such a wreck on the inside. “I wanna know what you're doin' with him.”   
  
“I'm his taichou, Abarai-kun,” he replied, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and wow, Renji must be dumb for not realizing this sooner. “What else can there be?”   
  
A growl of frustration escaped Renji's lips before he could stop it, nonexistent patience bubbling out of him and leaving only recklessness behind. “I saw you guys, okay?” he retorted. “I know what I'm talking about here.”   
  
“Do ya?”   
  
And really, that was an insult, even if it was subtle. Renji ground his teeth. “You're just using him, aren't ya? Well, Kira ain't that sort of guy. You're hurting 'im.”   
  
The odd quiet in the room rattled Renji. He felt tense, awkwardly trying to rein in his own lashing reiatsu. Even Ichimaru's smile was looking a bit strained, flattening out on the edges. The captain was still standing there, confident as always, but there was an annoyance to his tone. Barely there, but Renji could see it.   
  
“You're sure of that.”   
  
And even though Renji absolutely _was_ up until the very moment he lifted a hand to knock on Ichimaru's door, he faltered a bit. Because other than that one instance, he couldn't be sure what was going on. Nor could he be sure how Kira felt. All he had were his suspicions, based on the marks and the behavior and the bruises and the Kira he knew now who wasn't the Kira he knew in Academy.   
  
He looked at Ichimaru and that gave him the determination to continue. There was a smirk on the captain's lips, the same self-serving smirk that he always carried. But to Renji, it spoke volumes. He might not be certain about Kira, but he was damn certain about Ichimaru. The bastard was trouble.   
  
“Even if he wanted to, Kira wouldn't say anything,” Renji answered, avoiding the other part of the conversation for now. “He worked hard ta get where he is and he wouldn't ruin that.”   
  
Ichimaru folded his arms behind his back, shuffling a step towards the right. “So you're goin' to be his knight?” he drawled, phrasing it as a question. He watched Renji, eyelids lifted enough for Renji to see a faint glimpse of the color beyond.  
  
It was unnerving, but Renji forced himself to ignore the frightened leap his heart had taken into his belly. “If I have to,” he replied gruffly, drawing on a well of courage he did not know he possessed. “I protect my friends.”  
  
More than that, he was going to protect Kira. Because he wasn't going to fail again.   
  
“My, what friendship,” Ichimaru simpered, taking another step and giving an impression of a predator circling prey. And Renji was the red-haired, knee-shaking piece of meat just waiting to be snatched up and dragged to his death by the throat.  
  
Renji felt exposed, his more-or-less fledgling reiatsu a pittance in the presence of Ichimaru's wealth of spiritual energy. It granted him no protection and he was fully aware of that fact. He could feel Ichimaru's reiatsu licking over his skin, like being pricked by a dozen needles. It was annoying but not painful. Yet.  
  
“Sure wish I were that lucky,” Ichimaru added slyly, his grin stretching wider, revealing the perfect white of his teeth.   
  
Renji scowled, sure as shit that Ichimaru was mocking him. He knew he was no threat to the captain. Even so, he was going to try to protect his friend.   
  
“I want you to leave him alone.”   
  
“Izuru-chan came ta me first, Abarai-kun,” Ichimaru informed him in a matter-of-fact tone, one pale hand gesturing vaguely.  
  
Renji felt his own hands clenching into angry fists. He kept seeing Kira's eyes in the back of his mind and those marks, bright red and bruised. And he felt the sting of the smug superiority that Ichimaru wielded so well.   
  
It made his insides burn with anger. Not just at Ichimaru, but at himself. For his own uselessness. What did he think he would accomplish by coming here? Did he honestly believe Ichimaru would just answer his questions docilely and immediately stop his depraved actions? Or was it that he hadn't thought, and had just run in recklessly as always, determined not to fail this time around?   
  
His body shook as a mixture of emotion roiled through him. Embarrassment. Anger. Shame. Disappointment. Was this really all he was capable of?   
  
“Unless....”   
  
The single word was a sibilant hiss in the silence of the room, gripping Renji's immediate attention immediately. He looked up to find Ichimaru watching him intently, suddenly several steps closer than he had been before.   
  
Renji's gut churned.  
  
“Unless yer willin' ta take his place,” Ichimaru purred, cocking his head to the side. One thin hand lifted, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “Though ya don't look nearly as tasty as he does.”   
  
Cherry-amber eyes widened and Renji nearly choked on his next breath. “What the fuck?” he roared, staggering backwards into the door frame in his shock. “Ya want me to... to...” The words wouldn't quite come out as he shook with rage, the urge to commit violence rattling through his entire body.   
  
“To let me fuck ya?” Ichimaru supplied, leering. “Yeah, that was th' general idea.”   
  
Renji's jaw worked, but no sounds emerged. His eyes narrowed. “Ya think this is some kind of game or somethin'?” he hissed, feeling as though his back were against the proverbial wall. “That I came here to be your... _toy_?”   
  
Was Ichimaru serious? Did he actually mean for Renji to take Kira's place?  
  
“You came here fer somethin',” Ichimaru said calmly, unruffled in the face of Renji's displeasure. He didn't even blink at the unintentional rise of Renji's reiatsu, a weak wind in the face of Ichimaru's slithering tendrils. “I jes made a suggestion.”   
  
Renji's stomach flip-flopped with a swirl of fury and disbelief. “Yeah, fer me to bend over for ya,” he snapped, sneering. “Just like...” His words cut off abruptly, but the fact that he was going to name Kira was pretty damn obvious.   
  
Ichimaru said nothing, the snide curl of his lips speaking for itself.   
  
Renji scowled. “Ya want me to let ya do whatever the hell ya want,” he spat in reluctant realization. Within him Zabimaru coiled with displeasure, the snake hissing and the baboon snarling in hearty agreement for once, both demanding violence.   
  
And yet...  
  
Ichimaru shrugged. “It's a trade ya want, isn't it?” he prodded. A fisherman dangling a worm on the hook.   
  
A worm desperately wriggling to be free, even though its body had already been pierced by the barbed metal. Knowing its doom, still struggling to the last.  
  
... what else could Renji do?   
  
“If I have ta leave Izuru-chan alone, then I want somethin' outta the deal.”   
  
Renji grit his teeth, feeling them grinding against one another within the confines of his mouth. Ichimaru was watching him expectantly, almost certain that the cowardly lower seat before him was going to turn and run.  
  
Renji's gaze found the floor.  
  
He wasn't a coward. And Renji didn't run from anything.   
  
“Fine.” Renji forced the agreement past his lips, feeling shame coloring his cheeks even as determination burned through his blood. “But if I find out you've been touchin' Kira, I'll kick your ass.” The question of how he was going to do that was left unasked for the moment. It might have only been bravado.   
  
“Ya can try, Abarai-kun,” Ichimaru replied, and there was amusement in his tone. He was merely humoring Renji, that bastard. “I'm sure it'll be interestin'.” There was a rustle of fabric. “Come here.”  
  
He forced himself to lift his gaze, seeing that Ichimaru had beckoned him. He still stood in the middle of the main room, though closer now to one of the couches than he had been before. The option of running was still available to him, the yawning presence of the hallway beckoning at Renji's back.   
  
He hesitated for a moment that dragged on into eternity. But his pride wouldn't let him run scared, even if it balked at letting Ichimaru work his will.   
  
Squaring his shoulders, Renji sucked in a breath and forced his feet to move. If Kira could handle this, then so could he. And he'd do it with head held high.   
  
He almost missed the widening of Ichimaru's smile, a slow slide of absolute victory. He stepped closer to Ichimaru, within reach, and that was when a pale hand snapped out, abruptly snatching onto a fistful of Renji's hair. Before he could react, he was pulled forward with an unnaturally strong yank.   
  
“I dunno, Abarai-kun,” Ichimaru murmured as Renji bit back a startled cry. “Ya might be too willful fer me ta handle.” His voice was pleasant, even as he casually and with an ease that disturbed Renji, forced the lower seat to kneel.   
  
Wincing, Renji dropped to his knees, striking the floor with a harsh, dull thud. The fingers in his hair tightened, twisting and tangling amongst the long strands. “I can take it,” he retorted crossly, his bravado very much a necessary front.  
  
Ichimaru watched him, amusement dancing across his expression. “I'm sure ya can.” He chuckled lowly, a sound that echoed in his chest. “So open up yer hakama. Let's see what yer so proud of, what ya think will make me change my mind.”   
  
His cheeks burning at the mere thought of doing so, Renji gritted his teeth and did as asked. The humiliation burned through him as he jerked harshly on his obi, his hakama sagging past his hips. The white sash dropped to the floor as Renji looked away from Ichimaru, fingers pulling aside the layers of his shitagi.   
  
Cold air washed over his bared chest and abdomen. He regretted his usual habit of not wearing fundoshi when his half-hard length slipped free from its confines, presenting itself to the world for all to see. Renji could feel his face burning brighter.  
  
Ichimaru made a low sound of appreciation, which sounded a hell of a lot like a whistle. “I wondered how far them tattoos went,” he commented approvingly, the heat of his gaze falling on Renji's hipbone. “That had ta hurt. Ya like pain, Abarai-kun?”   
  
Ichimaru experimentally dug his fingers into Renji's hair. With a sharp twist of his wrist, he yanked harshly on the long strands. A cry escaped Renji before he could stop it, a low shudder he wouldn't have anticipated creeping down his spine. It had been startling, and it had hurt, but not as much as he would have expected. He'd always enjoyed people playing with his hair, but he'd never had anyone pull on it like that before.   
  
“Hmmm.” Ichimaru seemed inordinately pleased. “Maybe I could get used ta this,” he murmured, and without releasing his hold on the red locks, crouched until he was eye level with Renji, forcing the lower seat to look him in the eyes. “I wonder how long befer ya break, ne? I never could play good with my toys.”  
  
Renji glared, but Ichimaru dismissed his reaction like batting away a fly. He smirked again and then he leaned forward, pulling on Renji's hair until his head was pushed back. Something warm and wet pressed to Renji's throat, giving him a long lick, before it was followed by teeth and lips. Ichimaru bit down lightly, not with enough force to draw blood, but definitely hard enough to make Renji feel it. Renji couldn't help the shudder that wracked his body, as his fingers drew into fists.   
  
He told himself to endure. That if Kira could do it, then so could he.   
  
He felt Ichimaru's hot breath against his throat, and then it was gone. Ichimaru's fingers deftly twisted in his hair, and jerked out the tie, tossing it over his shoulder.   
  
“Hey--” Renji protested as his hair fell loose around him.  
  
“Shhh.” A hand covered his mouth, Ichimaru leaning over him with surprising flexibility and abruptly pushing Renji backwards. His back hit the floor with a dull thud.  
  
“Such a beautiful color,” Ichimaru commented, his other hand fingering the red strands and pulling them into Renji's view. “Has anyone told ya that it looks like blood? Especially like this, ne?”   
  
When Renji glared at him, unable to say anything through the hand covering his lips, Ichimaru just chuckled. “That's a good look,” he added, letting go of Renji's hair and settling for running his palm over Renji's chest, pushing aside the remaining layers of his shitagi until Renji's skin lay bare beneath his hand.   
  
Deft fingers traced the lines of dark tattoos, and drifted downwards, easily divesting Renji of the tangle of hakama around his legs and pushing them down. Renji hated how submissive he was being, but fighting back defeated the purpose of the agreement. He'd already abandoned his chance to walk away.   
  
Ichimaru's hand fell against his knee, pushing his legs apart and Renji swallowed thickly, parting them obediently. He felt the fabric of Ichimaru's robe, the captain still fully dressed, as he moved between Renji's legs. It brushed against his inner thighs, raising up goosebumps.   
  
The fingers slipped away from Renji's mouth finally, dropping to press a palm flat against the floor. Renji closed his eyes, not wanting to watch, and pressed his own hands to the wood. He was going to endure, but that didn't mean he had to participate. He felt the barest brush of something soft against his belly, his abdomen flinching away from the unexpected touch, before warm air breathed across it. Ichimaru's tongue flicked out, making him start in surprise, seconds before a finger tickled at his entrance.   
  
Despite his determination, Renji flinched away from the discomfiting touch. He heard Ichimaru chuckle, felt the slick slide of that tongue across his skin, and then a finger pushed into him entirely. He couldn't remember Ichimaru grabbing any oil, but it wouldn't surprise him if the bastard carried some on him all the time. Che, pervert.   
  
Renji grimaced, the sensation less arousing than he'd overheard people mention. And he told himself he didn't like the feel of Ichimaru's tongue either.   
  
“Renji-kun's never used this, ne?” Ichimaru asked, wriggling his finger and causing Renji to clamp down on the invading digit. A grunt of discomfort escaped him before he could stop it. “Such a shame.”   
  
“Dammit,” Renji cursed, cheeks burning as he covered his eyes with one crooked arm. “Just get it over with.”   
  
Ichimaru clucked his tongue. “Now Renji-kun. This sort of thing has ta be done right, or didn't ya know?” The finger started a shallow thrusting motion. Something smooth journeyed up his front and he only belatedly realized that Ichimaru was dragging his cheek against the planes of Renji's abdomen.   
  
“Or it's no fun fer either party, right?”   
  
“I ain't doin' this for my own sake,” Renji retorted, a shiver wracking his body as he felt the addition of another finger, stretching him with a bit of a burn.   
Lips traveled over his skin, and then teeth were clamping lightly onto one of his nipples, making a jolt run through him. Renji hissed at the unexpected surge of pleasure. He hadn't wanted to enjoy anything about this, and the surprising trill made his half-hard arousal give a little leap in interest. He mentally told the damn thing to sit down and shut up. Traitor.  
  
Ichimaru flicked his tongue over Renji's nipple and drew back. “Izuru-chan should be happy to have such a guardian,” he murmured, and withdrew his finger, only to return with another, pushing all three into Renji's entrance.   
  
He grunted at the added stretch, his muscles clamping around Ichimaru's fingers. “He's never gonna know.” Renji sneered.  
  
No, this was something he would never tell Kira. Because he knew the reaction he would get. Kira would be angry.   
  
“Guess I shouldn't tell either,” Ichimaru said with a chuckle, and there was a hint of mockery in it as he curled his fingers, pressing them firmly against something that made Renji's insides give a little flop of appreciation. A shudder of pleasure trickled down his spine and he unconsciously arched towards Ichimaru's touch.   
  
Damn. What the hell was that? It felt good, more than he was willing to admit. His cock hardened further, seeping at the tip, and a part of him wanted to reach down to find some relief.  
  
But that was something he would not do; Ichimaru would enjoy it too much.   
  
A tongue laved over his chest, following a distinct pattern that Renji recognized as the shape of his tattoos. “Felt good, didn't it?” Ichimaru practically purred.   
  
“Not at all,” Renji retorted, though the sizzling along his skin claimed otherwise.   
  
There was an obscene squelch as Ichimaru withdrew his fingers, giving them one last twist before he did so. “Are ya in the habit of lying to yerself, Renji-kun?” Ichimaru questioned, and the smell of something sweet filled the air.   
  
Ichimaru's hands settled on his knees, pushing them back towards Renji's head and he felt completely vulnerable, his groin exposed for all the world to see. The blunt head of Ichimaru's cock pressed against his entrance. Renji ground his jaw and tried to relax without success.  
  
The captain pushed into him and Renji's back arched off the floor as he endured the penetration. He could feel Ichimaru throbbing within him and he couldn't help but draw a sharp breath through his lips.   
  
Renji clenched his teeth. “.... _hurts_ , you bastard.”   
  
“It'll feel better inna minute,” Ichimaru replied offhandedly and licked up Renji's throat and off to the side, his tongue curling around Renji's ear. It felt better than it should have.   
  
Renji's shoulders were pressed into the wood; he could feel it even through the makeshift blanket of his own shihakushou. Ichimaru's tongue was on him, his fingers squeezing Renji's legs, and Renji refused to look at him. He clenched his eyes shut, covered his face with his arms, and bit his lip as Ichimaru withdrew, only to push into him again with a slick, perverted sound.   
  
Renji could feel Ichimaru's own clothing brushing against the sides of his legs with every thrust, the captain having not bothered to disrobe completely. His body and limbs were bony and thin where he touched Renji, carrying a faint chill. Renji couldn't ignore that it was _Ichimaru_ thrusting into him, and _Ichimaru's_ harsh breath panting in Renji's ears.   
  
It felt as if Renji were watching someone else become Ichimaru Gin's lover. This... this wasn't him. This wasn't Renji's back against the floor, his hair loose and sprawled, his lip drawn firmly between his teeth. Ichimaru's thin, spidery fingers clutched Renji's leg. And Ichimaru's teeth grazed Renji's throat, dragging him to reality.  
  
And then Ichimaru started talking again, his pace never ceasing as Renji's body opened up to him, making the thrusts easier. “Ya'd like it better if I were Izuru-chan, ne?” the captain proposed, sucking on Renji's ear lobe with a perverse noise. “All tha' perty skin and such. Ya think about it, doncha?”   
  
“Shut up,” Renji growled, his breath hitching despite himself. He didn't want to, but Ichimaru had recalled for him the glimpse he had gotten.   
  
Kira had looked surprisingly sexy. That had been an odd perception for Renji, who had never really looked, not until that inadvertent glimpse. And then he couldn't get Kira out of his head. Those erotic cries, Kira's body moving rhythmically, his unmarked skin...   
  
Ichimaru's dark chuckle drew Renji from his memories and he realized, with growing horror, that his half-erection had become a full one. The lulling motion of Ichimaru's body, the slide of the captain inside of him, pushing fully on something that made his insides tingle in a way he wouldn't ever admit aloud... The slap of skin on skin was all too loud in the silence and he could hear Ichimaru's breathing, heavy and aroused. Renji's own was sharp and erratic, wanton. He hated it.   
  
“No, ya don't,” Ichimaru corrected, and it wasn't until then that Renji realized he had said the last aloud.   
  
The words had stolen themselves from his subconscious, spilling into the musk-filled space between them. The air smelled heavily of sex and sweat, and the bitter tang of blood from Renji's lip, bitten when he had attempted to contain his cries.  
  
His fingers tightened into fists, so tense that they ached. He denied the pleasure arcing through his body with everything within him, but no matter how he disciplined himself, how he put the iron bars of denial between himself and his body ... his body won out.   
  
Still, he wanted... no, _needed_ to hate this. But his damn traitorous body demanded relief.  
  
Ichimaru's mouth traveled downwards until his breath ghosted over one of Renji's puckering nipples. “Izuru-chan likes this, too,” he murmured, and the tip of his tongue touched the pebbled nub. “Course, he likes it when ya use yer tongue even more.”   
  
“Stop... talkin' 'bout him like that,” Renji panted, body unconsciously arching into the touch even as he attempted to fight the pleasure. He didn't want to enjoy this, dammit.   
  
“That's what ya say,” Ichimaru purred, and his hand released one of Renji's knees, letting the leg slide around his waist. “But yer already drippin' like this.”   
  
He didn't know what the captain had planned next until thin fingers curled around Renji's arousal. A thumb rubbed across the damp tip, and Renji let loose a strangled groan, his hips surging into the touch. His traitorous organ was all too hungry for the next perverse touch, seeking a release it had been denied all evening.   
  
Teeth scraped over Renji's collarbone. “Mah, ya shouldn't hold it in, Renji-kun. It's not healthy.”   
  
“Like yer the expert or somethin',” Renji spat nastily, but his indignation degenerated as Ichimaru gave a well-timed thrust, his length sliding along that spot inside of him that reduced Renji to nothing but need.   
  
He tried to stand aside as the body became like an animal, humping into Ichimaru's fingers and accepting each deep thrust. His mind was losing the battle, base thoughts such as “more” and “want” replacing “I hate this.”  
  
Ichimaru made a low sound in his throat, an appreciative hum. “I might just be. Ya never know,” he replied, and there was a hitch to his voice. He was getting close, his pace becoming a bit more frantic.   
  
Did the captain never stop talking? By Kami, it was so fucking annoying, his voice like a steady buzz in Renji's ears, reminding him with every inflection that it truly was Ichimaru fucking him and not someone else. It would be easier to think otherwise with his eyes closed, but he couldn't shut his ears.   
  
Ichimaru pushed deep into Renji, making him hiss and rock into the thrust, his arousal seeping at the tip. There was a growing sense of warmth and desire in Renji's belly, threatening to erupt at any moment. He grit his teeth, gnawing fiercely on his bottom lip to contain the humiliating moans bubbling in his throat, the moans he would not gift to Ichimaru.   
  
He endured because he told himself he would, even if the sensation was humiliating. He thought that if Kira could tolerate Ichimaru's touch and Ichimaru's tongue, then he could do the same for his friend. And if, with this, he could help Kira, then it wasn't that big a deal. Not at all.   
  
Ichimaru abruptly shifted the angle of his thrusts, leaning over Renji and squeezing his fingers around Renji's cock. Renji's body clamped down on Ichimaru's length, and the captain drew in a quick breath, a small, throaty moan escaping from his lips, the first aroused noise Ichimaru had made that night. His hips snapped forward, driving deep into Renji, and then Ichimaru was shaking over him, spilling inside him.  
  
The redhead moaned behind his teeth, the coil in his belly tightening until he could no longer hold it in. He shuddered, entire body shaking as he gave into his release, covering Ichimaru's fingers in pale fluid. He felt the captain's teeth on his throat, a hot pressure as his tongue flicked across Renji's skin.   
  
Renji's heart beat madly inside his chest as he collapsed into the floor, sweat covering him from head to toe. His arm fell from covering his face as he sucked in several breaths, exhaustion taking him over. All he wanted to do was sleep, feeling wrung dry.   
  
He hardly realized when he slipped into sleep, dragged down by a strange weariness. He didn't even feel it as Ichimaru slid out of him.   
  
Later, Renji woke to the feeling of a slim finger digging into his side. He groaned, his eyes peeling open, only to slide shut again at the impossible brightness from a single small light. He wanted to go back to sleep, his brain feeling fuzzy around the edges. Like he'd had a night of binge-drinking with Hisagi-senpai and Ikkaku-san. His bed was certainly hard tonight.   
  
“Wake up, Abarai-kun,” a voice called above him, that annoying finger jabbing into his side again and managing to get uncomfortably right between two ribs. “Ya should be sleepin' in yer own quarters. Zaraki-taichou'll be missin' ya.”   
  
He groaned, the events of the night before coming back to him in a sudden flash. He'd actually done it. He'd given his body over to that freak Ichimaru, and the captain had done his best to wring him dry. He felt strung up and beaten, his lower regions throbbing and his body sticky. He desperately needed a bath.   
  
Ichimaru crouched over him, his elbows balanced on his knees and his head cocked to the side. “Come now, Abarai-kun,” he practically purred. “Ya can't be hurtin' that much.”   
  
He forced one dark red eye open, glaring up at the captain. “Bastard,” he hissed through his teeth, as shifting made a dull throb creep up his back.   
  
A pale hand came out, patting him patronizingly on the cheek. “Ya shouldn't be talkin' to yer superiors like tha', Abarai-kun. And after I was nice to ya an' everythin'.”   
  
Renji surged upwards and away from the condescending touch, wanting distance between himself and Ichimaru as he scrambled to a sitting position, hair falling around his face in a tangled disarray. Pain immediately followed and he sucked air through his teeth.  
  
“You call that nice?” he demanded, rubbing at his lower back even as he registered his utter nakedness. He was wrapped, more or less, in his shitagi, but that was about it. While he should have felt embarrassed, his brain wasn't quite working yet. All he could think of was that he'd actually gone through with it.   
  
Ichimaru pulled back, folding his arms over his chest, balancing his chin on one palm. He smiled at Renji, and it was an eerie, twisted grin. “I gave ya what ya wanted, didn't I? That's bein' nice.”   
  
The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, bitter and accusing. “You nice to Kira, too?”   
  
The smile, usually so prominent, slipped just a little, coming dangerously close to a frown. “I think yer getting' the wrong impression 'bout me an' Izuru-chan.” He slowly stood, his plain yukata falling messily across his thin frame.   
  
Renji forced himself to rise to his feet, despite the pain radiating through his back. As he moved around, hunting for his clothes, he could feel the weight of Ichimaru's gaze on him, as though looking right through him. It made his skin crawl, even as a shiver crept up his spine.   
  
“Why don't ya enlighten me then?” he demanded, only to pause and stare in horror as he caught his reflection in a passing small mirror. There were marks on him, the side of his neck, his collarbone, the flat planes of his abdomen. Finger impressions, small bites, everywhere. He'd been fucking mauled.   
  
Suddenly, Renji felt a bit too naked, if there was even such a thing. He hurriedly slipped into his hakama, despite the pain it produced, and quickly knotted the ties.   
  
“Not my place ta tell,” Ichimaru responded with far too much cheer, his steps silent as he moved around the room, still watching. “But if ya think yer doin' this fer him, ya might want to ask yerself what Izuru-chan really wants, ne?”   
  
Renji scrambled around for his hair tie, wishing he could remember where Ichimaru had tossed it. He felt vulnerable with his hair loose. “It certainly isn't you,” he retorted, a sneer twisting his lips.   
  
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn't.” Ichimaru's head tipped to the side, and then he was there, in Renji's way. One hand lifted, palm landing flat against Renji's bared chest, where he hadn't yet managed to pull his shitagi shut.   
  
It felt unnaturally warm, and the strength in that hold never ceased to surprise Renji. Deft fingers traced the arched, black lines on Renji's chest.   
  
“But he's got such a strong protector like you,” Ichimaru continued, his voice a near purr. He was only an inch shorter than Renji, but somehow, Renji felt as if he were inches below the captain. “Maybe ya want him to want you?”   
  
It was completely out of his control, the bright red that invaded his cheeks. Because all he could think about in that moment was Kira, that pale skin, those lusty cries. Imagining the feel of him beneath his fingertips, of pressing his lips to Kira's and running his fingers through blond hair.   
  
He startled and the sudden vividness of the image, and thought to move away, but Ichimaru was too fast for him. His smile more of a smirk, Ichimaru reached out and grabbed Renji's chin, pulling him into a firm kiss. It wasn't until that moment that Renji realized it was the first time the captain had actually kissed him. Ichimaru's tongue slid into his mouth, tasting of persimmon and blood, a weird combination.   
  
“Ya ain't as cute as Izuru-chan,” Ichimaru murmured, ending the kiss with a lick across Renji's lips. “But I think you'll do, Abarai-kun.”   
  
Renji growled in his throat, not liking what the captain was implying. “We have a deal,” he reminded Ichimaru. Otherwise, what was all this for?   
  
“Mmm. Do we?” The fingers tightened on his chin, holding stronger than he would have thought.   
  
Renji struggled and broke free, backing away several steps to the hall. “Bastard!” he spat, even as Ichimaru advanced on him, causing him to backpedal another couple of steps. “Ya said ya would leave 'im alone!”   
  
Retreating again, Renji nearly tripped on his own waraji and he hurriedly dropped down, scooping them into his arms.   
  
Ichimaru was relentless. “I did,” Ichimaru agreed, and that sly grin returned. “But if he comes ta me, I ain't gonna turn 'im away. Would be rude, yanno.”   
  
Renji's back hit the door as Ichimaru waved one hand dismissively. “That's why I said yer misunderstandin' somethin' here.”   
  
He pressed close to Renji, whose heart had started a sudden and strange rhythm in his chest. But rather than do something perverted, he reached past Renji and suddenly pushed the door open.   
  
Renji stumbled backwards and out into the early morning dew. He nearly dropped one of his waraji in the process, left staring at Ichimaru in disbelief.   
  
Standing in his doorway, Ichimaru lifted a hand and leaned it against the doorframe. “Ya should really learn to get all yer information 'for ya go all half-cocked, ne, Abarai-kun?”   
  
All too aware of his surroundings, all Renji could do was growl under his breath, even as he tried to maintain hold on his slipping hakama and his halfway done clothing. “Ichimaru-taichou--”  
  
“Goodnight,” the captain replied cheerily, and with a happy smile and a flirty wave, the door was slid shut.   
  
Renji was left standing in front of Ichimaru's door, half-dressed, with his lower body aching and throbbing, his heart matching the odd rhythm, and Renji swallowed thickly. He felt sticky and sweaty, remnants of Ichimaru's release clinging to him.   
  
The early morning's chill sent a shiver through his body. And all he could do was stare in dull confusion at Ichimaru's closed door, wondering what the hell he had just done.   


***


	3. Crashing on the Shore

“Kira!”  
  
The blond turned at the sound of his name, brow furrowed in confusion as he cut off his conversation mid-sentence. “Abarai-kun?” he questioned with surprise as Renji jogged up towards him. “Is everything all right? You're out of breath.”   
  
Renji didn't immediately answer, grabbing Kira's elbow and attempting to lead him away. “Sorry,” he apologized lightly to the other Shinigami that Kira was talking to, a woman from his own division. “I have to borrow him.”   
  
He didn't wait for her to acknowledge him, pulling Kira away from the conversation. The vice-captain stumbled at the abrupt action, calling an apology in his wake.   
  
“Abarai-kun!” Kira exclaimed, blue eyes wide with bewilderment. “What's going on? What's the rush? Did something happen?”   
  
It took that long for Renji to realize he probably was acting a little insane. He loosened his hold on Kira and lowered the pace. “Err, nothin',” Renji said dismissively, and it was just this shade of an absolute lie. “I just wanted to talk to ya.”   
  
“Well, you could have done it without dragging me away,” Kira returned with a light frown, and then his eyes raked over Renji's appearance, still confused.   
  
He didn't blame Kira. He probably looked a wreck. Renji had gotten little sleep that night, tossing and turning on his tatami as he tried to ignore the dull ache in his body. He tried to convince himself that he hadn't just had sex with Ichimaru-taichou, and worse, that he'd enjoyed it to an extent. But the more he attempted to chase away the images, the more they played over and over in his mind.   
  
It was even worse after he'd gone to the bath and found the marks. Luckily, it was early enough that he was the only one there. Still, it was embarrassing, and a little infuriating. They were everywhere – on his chest and neck and throat – evidence of that bastard's actions were all over his skin. He'd bandaged up the more visible ones, and told others that he'd hurt himself practicing.   
  
Renji lifted his free hand, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry. I wasn't thinking.”   
  
“Obviously.” Kira's frown deepened and he ground to a halt, around the corner of the courtyard and away from the prying eyes that had been watching their abrupt exit. Admittedly, the attention they had drawn to themselves was mostly Renji's fault. Well, _entirely_ Renji's fault.   
  
“What was so important?”  
  
“Errr....” Renji faltered, because really, he didn't have anything to say at all.   
  
He thought that maybe he wanted to warn Kira or something. He definitely wasn't planning on saying what he had done, or what plans Ichimaru was making. And Renji didn't know how to say what he wanted to say without revealing his own role in what happened.   
  
Renji felt his cheeks redden on their own as his mind unhelpfully recalled what he had done the night before. If he moved a certain way, his body reminded him, too, in the dull ache that radiated up his back. He'd had sex with Ichimaru-taichou; Renji couldn't get that truth out of his mind. And he could only hope that the captain would keep his half of the deal, that he wouldn't ever touch Kira again.   
  
He wanted to say that Kira didn't have to worry anymore. That he didn't have to do those perverted things anymore. But then Kira would know that he knew and would get angry. Or upset. Or both. And somehow, Renji would have to tell the truth. There was no way in hell he was going to do that.   
  
So why had he dragged Kira away like that? Renji wasn't sure. It was just that the he entered the courtyard and saw Kira, he felt the urge to talk to the blond. Without any sort of rationality or reason. He thought of the way Ichimaru-taichou had talked about Kira, the perverted things he had said. He didn't care about Kira at all. He just treated him like a toy for his amusement, that much was obvious.   
  
Renji wasn't going to let that happen.   
  
“Abarai-kun?” Kira's concerned voice broke through his rampant thoughts and Renji shook his head. He had already made his decision; last night had only solidified it. Even if he never told Kira about it. Ever.   
  
He reached forward, grabbing Kira's arm and giving it a light squeeze. “Ya know ya can trust me, right?”   
  
Kira blinked. “Umm, yes. Why?”   
  
He hated that he was terrible with words. This was the best he could do. “I just wanted ya to know that,” Renji explained, though he realized it probably didn't make any sense at all. “If ya ever need someone to talk to, I'm here. I'll listen.” He gestured to himself. “I might even be able ta help.”   
  
Those blue eyes watched him cautiously, concern lining his pretty features. “You're acting strangely today, Abarai-kun. Are you ill?” Kira lifted a hand, a part of the fourth-division still alive within him as he lifted the back of it to Renji's forehead.   
  
Renji scowled, lightly swatting away the touch that sent a shock of _something_ through his entire body in response. Kira's hands were too damn soft. And he was too damn close, too, for that matter. The smell of whatever soap he bathed with surrounded his body, floating to Renji's nostrils as if called by some unnatural source. Sweet and seductive.   
  
Dammit, dammit, dammit, he wasn't supposed to be thinking of Kira like that. He didn't want to prove Ichimaru-taichou's insinuations right.   
  
“No, I'm not sick.”   
  
“Well, you're certainly not making any sense,” Kira huffed, no doubt growing annoyed with his behavior.  
  
Frustration laced Renji's tone. “I know. It's just...” He growled uncertainly and looked away. The right words just wouldn't come to him, no matter how he searched his mind or his heart. How could he warn someone of something he didn't want to discuss? When they probably already knew what they were getting into?   
  
Renji never got the chance to say it.   
  
In the next moment, a Hell Butterfly fluttered their direction, black wings catching the light of the sun. Kira released Renji's arm and held out a hand, letting the messenger delicately land on his finger.   
  
His head tipped to the side as he listened, Renji waiting with some impatience. The heat of the day was making him sweat, and there was a dull ache in his lower body. He really wanted to sit down, or lie down preferably. He wasn't sure if sitting was a good thing yet.   
  
Kira nodded to himself and message delivered, the butterfly took off again, disappearing into the afternoon. At the look on his face, Renji felt a sinking sensation in his belly. Somehow, he just knew who that had to have been. He asked anyways.   
  
“What was that?”   
  
“Ichimaru-taichou. We have a training exercise in twenty minutes so he wants me to gather the division together.”   
  
Renji huffed, raking fingers through his long hair. Training exercise. _Riiiiiight._ He didn't believe that for one goddamned second. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. Now that he knew the truth, he couldn't help but see it in everything, even what was truly innocent.   
  
“He had a message for you, too,” Kira added, his brow drawing in confusion. “Though I don't know why. Or even how.”   
  
Ice trickled through Renji's veins as he turned to stone. “He... he did?” Renji asked, trying and failing for casual. “What did it say?” His stomach twisted itself into knots, and the small breakfast he'd managed that morning, threatened to re-emerge.   
  
“ _I'll keep mine if you keep yours_ ,” Kira replied, and he lifted his eyes to Renji's, blue dimmed with befuddlement. “Are you thinking about transferring to the third, Abarai-kun?”   
  
He sucked in a desperate breath, cursing Ichimaru-taichou loudly within his mind. His cheeks pinked without his permission, knowing exactly what the captain meant. The fucker. Taunting him right in front of Kira.   
  
“No, it's... uh... it's somethin' for Zaraki-taichou,” he insisted, sucking at lying. It was the best he could come up with. “A little bet between them, yanno? I'm just the go-between.”   
  
Kira watched him, not seeming to buy it, before he inclined his head, frowning. “I get the feeling that I don't really want to know.”   
  
Renji laughed, and try as he might, it came out uncertain and nervous. “No, you don't. Ah... don't you have to be somewhere?”   
  
Kira started in remembrance, the first half of his captain's message replaying through his mind. “I do,” he replied, and turned as though to leave, only to pause and glance at Renji over his shoulder. “You sure you're all right?”   
  
Sometimes, Kira was too perceptive for his own good. Renji just grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “M'fine, Kira. Catch ya later.”   
  
Kira nodded, and then he was gone, off to fulfill his duties as vice-captain to the third. Renji watched his exit with mixed feelings, a hatred burbling in his gut for Ichimaru-taichou. He knew exactly what he was doing, the manipulative bastard, and Renji had fallen right into his trap. But it was too late to back out now. Renji refused to accept defeat. He was going to save Kira. No matter what it took.   
  
He had already made this decision.   
  
Which was why, later that night, Renji again found himself on Ichimaru's doorstep. His shoulders were drawn tight with determination, and this time, he managed to at least knock before the door opened. Ichimaru looked at him expectantly, a smirk on his face, mockery dancing on his lips.   
  
Renji hated him. Hated himself. Hated everything, but he was going to do this.   
  
“Leave Kira alone,” he growled, and stepped into the captain's quarters without so much as an invitation.   
  
He fisted Ichimaru's nemaki and pressed himself against the captain, sealing his lips over the other man's in a hard, angry kiss. He wasn't quite sure who he was angry with more, himself or the manipulative captain. But he was pretty damn pissed.   
  
The door closed behind him, locking Renji within the quarters with a defining thud. _No turning back_ , the sound seemed to say. And the ripple in Ichimaru's reiatsu – smugly pleased – agreed entirely.   
  
Ichimaru reached up, ending the kiss easily as he grabbed Renji's wrists with his thin fingers, squeezing them. “Such an enticin' prospect, Abarai-kun,” he drawled, leaning forward and licking a hot line up Renji's throat before purring in his ear. “I'll take ya, if that's what ya want. But don't be surprised if it's more than ya bargained fer.”   
  
Amber-red eyes narrowed, Renji's jaw setting stubbornly. “I don't care,” he muttered, desperately ignoring the flash of heat that dribbled down his spine. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this. “So long as you leave Kira alone.”   
  
The captain chuckled. “If ya insist.”   
  
“I do,” Renji growled, and in that moment, he believed both himself and the vow he had made.   
  
Ichimaru's lips pulled into a smirk – different from his usual grin somehow – and then he pulled Renji further into the hall. The lower seat stumbled at the unexpected move, and with an expert twist, Ichimaru pushed him against the wall. His back struck as Ichimaru's lips covered Renji's own, his wrists caught between the wall and Ichimaru's hold.  
  
Ichimaru tasted of blood, strangely, and something sweet, like candy. Despite the aggression, the kiss was less harsh, more involved. Ichimaru's tongue sought out Renji's, trying to encourage a participation Renji was determined to avoid. The slender build of the captain pressed against Renji, all sharp angles and long limbs. Pale skin gleaming amber in the half-light and silver hair darkened. Ichimaru's ground against him and to Renji's horror, he started to get hard, and even felt Ichimaru lengthen against him.   
  
The captain rubbed against him, moves smooth and sensuous as he rocked their bodies together. Something echoed in Renji's chest. Something a bit like a moan as Ichimaru's talented tongue stroked along his.   
  
At the sound, Ichimaru pulled back from the kiss, only to lick a long line up Renji's throat. “That's better,” he purred, lifting a knee and rubbing it against Renji's burgeoning arousal, prompting a flash of fire through the Renji's loins. “Ya should enjoy it, too.”   
  
Indignation welled, and the scrap of pride that Renji clung to desperately, snarled angrily. “Stop toyin' with me.”   
  
“But it's so much fun,” Ichimaru countered cheerfully and suddenly tugged Renji up off the wall, whirling him around to face it.   
  
Renji's palms slapped against the white surface as Ichimaru draped against his back, a light and bony presence. He squeezed Renji's wrists meaningfully and let them go. Without being told, Renji understood. He didn't move them, his fingers flexing against the unforgiving surface as he stared at nothing, apprehensive of the body moving behind him.   
  
A hand reached around him, and tugged at his obi, letting the sash slither to the floor. Renji's hakama dropped around his hips and Ichimaru gave them a push, letting the fabric pool to the floor around Renji's feet. Clad in only his shitagi, Renji shivered as a wash of air attacked his bare cock and scrotum, Ichimaru's fingers playfully skating up the outside of his thigh before skirting around the front.   
  
He curled a hold around Renji's traitorous cock, already hard and glistening at the tip. A few skilled strokes and Renji's hips rocked into Ichimaru's grip, betraying his every intention to not enjoy this.   
  
Since his body would not cooperate, he settled for proving his indignation aloud. “Bastard, we're still in the hallway,” he growled.   
  
“I know.” Renji could practically hear the captain's smirk, even if he couldn't see it. Talented fingers danced across his cock. “Doncha think it's sexier this way?”   
  
Ichimaru pushed up against him, purring into his ear and grinding against his ass in a way that shouldn't have turned Renji on, but actually did. He told himself he hated it.  
  
“That way,” Ichimaru continued, breath a dangerous wet warmth across Renji's sensitive ear, “if anyone happens ta pass by, they might hear ya. Better be quiet, ne?”   
  
Renji didn't answer, refusing to rise to Ichimaru's bait. He bit down on his retort, and heard the whisper of cloth as Ichimaru pulled the obi on his nemaki. Following, he felt Ichimaru's cock slide against his bare ass, between his buttocks. A slick smear of precum followed in its wake and it shouldn't have been erotic, but somehow it was.   
  
A hand slipped under his shitagi, ghosting across his bare hip and traveling upwards. Ichimaru skirted his fingers across Renji's chest, his palm abnormally warm against the redhead's skin and sending a trill of lust down his spine. Thin fingers grasped one of Renji's nipples, rolling the pebbled flesh expertly.   
  
Renji couldn't stop the gasp that escaped him. His back bowed and his nails scraped against the wall, flecks of paint catching under them. Damn but the captain's touch should not have felt so good. He should not be enjoying this.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled, pulling Renji's ear into his mouth and biting gently on the soft shell. It didn't quite hurt, but there was a faint sting that drizzled down Renji's spine. His fingers twisted Renji's nipple, causing a sweet heat that Renji couldn't ignore, even if he wanted. A moan stole from his lips, echoing in the nearly empty hallway.  
  
“Mmm, now that's a good sound,” Ichimaru purred in his ear, breath a warm, moist puff against Renji's neck.   
  
“Shut up,” Renji snarled, arching backwards when Ichimaru's other hand grasped his hair, yanking out the tie and letting the crimson strands fall free. “And leave my hair alone.”   
  
“I don' think I will,” Ichimaru retorted, tangling his fingers into Renji's hair and give it a small tug, pulling Renji's head back and revealing the curve of his throat. “Yer fun to play wit', Renji-kun.”   
  
He growled, feeling patronized. But the frustrated noise died in his chest as Ichimaru ground against his ass, his hard flesh throbbing where it touched Renji's bare skin.   
  
“Just get it over with,” he demanded, not wanting to enjoy this.   
  
Ichimaru certainly knew what he was doing. Each touch lighting fire through Renji's body, sending a heated flush over his flesh. Despite himself, he grew aroused, his cock lengthening as the head of it brushed against the wall, leaving a streak of precum in its wake.   
  
“Don' ya remember anythin'? I said it last time. These things 're to be done righ'.”   
  
He abandoned the teasing touch to Renji's nipples, lifting his hand to Renji's face where he traced fingers over the lower seat's lips. “Now suck.”   
  
Renji glared at the wall, staring daggers into it and wishing he could set it aflame with ocular fire. He wanted to tell the captain to go fuck himself, but instead he parted his lips, taking two of the thin digits into his mouth. It was self-explanatory from there, Renji obediently laved his tongue over them, moistening the fingers with his saliva.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled, pressing completely against Renji from behind and overwhelming him with his abnormal strength. “Yer pretty good at this, Renji-chan. I'd almos' think ya did it before.”   
  
A growl echoed in Renji's chest, but he couldn't retort around the fingers so he settled for exhaling loudly through his nose. It didn't help that Ichimaru had started tonguing his neck, attacking every one of Renji's weak points and making a languid heat spread down his spine and into his legs. He sagged against the wall as Ichimaru rocked against him, his arousal sliding through the crease of Renji's buttocks but not yet penetrating. He teased and nipped and sucked, making it more and more difficult to remain detached.   
  
Ichimaru's scent surrounded him, a strange mix of blood and cologne, something sharp and musky. He must have recently bathed, too, because there was a clinging dampness to his skin, and the tips of his moist hair occasionally brushed against bare patches of Renji's collarbone over his shoulder.  
  
“I could grow used ta this,” Ichimaru muttered, rubbing the pad of his fingers over Renji's tongue before removing them with an audible pop.  
  
“Keep yer halffa th' bargain and I'll keep mine,” Renji growled, bracing himself for the inevitable penetration. “That's what ya said.”   
  
Ichimaru hummed noncommittally in his throat, his fingers circling Renji's pucker before both of them pressed inside. Renji grunted at the sudden push, a slight burn accompanying the thrust.   
  
“It is, ain't it?” Ichimaru questioned, twisting his fingers within Renji and setting up a slow, but steady pace. He mouthed Renji's neck, biting down on tanned skin and leaving a faint impression of teeth, but no marks. Not just yet.  
  
“I'm perty good at keepin' bargains, just so ya know.”   
  
Renji gritted his teeth, letting the words wash over and through him. He endured Ichimaru's fingers, pressing in and out of him. Twisting and nudging. Brushing against that spot that made him almost see stars.  
  
“You'd better be,” Renji growled out.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled, biting down on Renji's shoulder and sending a shudder of want through the redhead. His body flexed, clenching down on invading fingers even as his hips adopted their own rhythm. He warred with himself, enjoying and hating the sensations all at once.   
  
“Mmm, looks like yer ready fer me, ne, Renji-kun,” Ichimaru purred, licking over the bite marks his teeth made with a flicker of his tongue.   
  
His fingers pulled free from Renji's ass with a lewd noise and settled on Renji's hip, pulling him back towards Ichimaru's waiting cock. He felt it nudge at his puckered entrance and braced himself for the inevitable.   
  
“Spit'll 'ave to do fer now,” Ichimaru added, as though keeping a running commentary was going to make things any better for Renji. “Don' think I want ya to escape.”   
  
“Oy, I can hold up my end, too,” Renji snarled, throwing a heated glare over his shoulder and regretting the action when he caught a slit of hungry cerise peering back at him.   
  
Ichimaru's eyes were unexpectedly pretty, and the last thing Renji wanted was to have that thought suddenly attack him. He wasn't supposed to be attracted to Ichimaru. The bastard was the enemy here, the one making Kira's life difficult and complicating Renji's. He couldn't afford to let himself become enamored, of all things, with the captain.   
  
Renji was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt the head of Ichimaru's arousal press to his entrance. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down as Ichimaru's free hand slid up and around him, palm flattening over Renji's chest.   
  
“Relax,” Ichimaru murmured into his ear, and somehow, it failed to sound patronizing, though Renji wished he would have stuck with the mockery. It made it easier to hate him.   
  
“Impossible,” he retorted, just to be contrary.   
  
And Ichimaru chuckled lowly, not giving Renji any warning before he rocked his hips forward. Renji groaned, scratching down the wall as Ichimaru pushed into him, his length burrowing deep into Renji and leaving him feeling incredibly full. Ichimaru's cock pulsed inside of him, each throb no doubt matching the rampant beat of the captain's heart.   
  
His back bowing, Ichimaru slid out of him slowly, leaving just the head of his cock inside. He circled his hips and Renji clenched reflexively, feeling as if he were being kept dancing on the edge. His hands curled into fists, pressed up against the wall, and he bit back his cries. No way in hell would he let the noises escape him and this hallway.   
  
“Do it,” he growled, head hanging as he sucked in slow, panting breaths, a heat creeping up his spine that had no right to inform him of the pleasure. “Stop toyin' with me, dammit.”   
  
Fingers danced across his chest. “Yer sexy like this,” Ichimaru said instead, his hips pressing forward, sliding in slow and thick, filling him completely. “Shakin' and wantin', practically beggin' fer it.”   
  
Renji's mouth clamped down on the angered retort he had planned, choosing to keep it to himself rather than admit the embarrassing moan that sought to slip through his lips. Ichimaru's slow and deep rhythm kept sliding against something inside him that sent white-hot sparks of fire through his veins. His arms trembled, legs fighting to keep himself up as his traitorous cock hardened, seeping copiously.   
  
Ichimaru's reiatsu, formerly dormant, rose about his skin like a thick cloak. Renji could feel it pressing against him, not quite painful this time, but like a living extension of the captain himself. It trickled against his back, swamping his own and surrounding him in the sensation of Ichimaru. He hated that he wasn't utterly disgusted, that the feeling of being cradled in power only aroused him further.   
  
A low moan fought its way into his chest, rattling strongly. He sucked in a breath, an urge to reach down and stroke himself growing stronger and stronger with each of Ichimaru's probing thrusts into his body. The captain's rhythm increased, his fingers tightening where they gripped Renji's hip, until he was certain he would have bruises the shape of the captain's thin fingers to match the others on his body tomorrow.   
  
Just like Kira.   
  
Unbidden, his mind recalled the glimpses he had unwittingly received. Of bright marks and flushed cheeks, and he wondered what Ichimaru must have been doing. His lips had been on Kira's skin. He remembered the sounds Kira had been making when he stumbled on the two of them, more erotic than any noise he'd managed to induce from the few women he'd tumbled. Wanton almost.   
  
The coiling in Renji's belly tightened, threatening to explode. Ichimaru's tongue slid across his neck as he reached up to briefly brush Renji's hair aside before gripping the lower seat's hip again. The wet appendage snaked around Renji's ear, teeth catching on the delicate shell, breath hot and wet in his ear.   
  
A shiver dragged down Renji's spine and his head fell back, landing on Ichimaru's shoulder, which seemed to be the captain's intention. His hand skated up Renji's chest and thin fingers gripped Renji's chin, forcing his head further back. Ichimaru's teeth skirted down the side of his bared neck, his fast thrusting pushing Renji against the wall. He felt his aching cock encircled by deft fingers and Renji gasped, the touch sending a sizzling through his veins.   
  
This wasn't going at all like he expected it to. But Renji was beyond the point of coherent thought. Hate and anger and disgust all bled away, chased off by something more carnal and base. The need to come outweighed everything else, his balls drawing up tight, his hips taking up their own relentless and needy rocking motion. He arched back to meet each of Ichimaru's thrusts, and even when the captain chuckled lowly in his ear, he couldn't dredge up a growl of annoyance. Not when his body screamed for release, muscles drawn tight and coiling.   
  
Ichimaru shifted the angle of his thrusts, the sound of his heavy breathing hot and humid against Renji's ear. His cock struck that same something inside of Renji and he cried out before he could stop himself, body convulsing as he spilled over Ichimaru's fingers. The echo of his shout reverberated in the hall, making Renji's cheeks burn with embarrassment. He sagged against Ichimaru, tremors rocking his body. A slick hand gripped Renji's hip, tightening, and Ichimaru pressed against him, thrusting harshly a few more times before he groaned and released.   
  
The younger man sucked in a breath, forcing his hands to unclench as he clung to the wall with his fingers. He swallowed, feeling the weight of Ichimaru's fingers around his throat where they had fallen in the wake of the captain's climax. Sweat painted his body as he tried to will his breathing and his heart-rate to return to normal.   
  
Ichimaru withdrew from him with an obscene noise, and Renji really wanted a bath at the moment. Something hot and scalding, to chase away the lingering pleasure. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this or Ichimaru's touch. And now, this was the second time that Ichimaru's fingers had wrung an orgasm out of him.   
  
A tongue slithered out, curling around Renji's ear as Ichimaru covered him from behind, like a blanket made from pale, angular limbs. “I wonder if anyone heard ya, ne Renji-kun?” Ichimaru murmured, his sticky fingers walking across the planes of Renji's front and leaving streaks of Renji's own release across his skin. “Think they're jealous?”   
  
Renji's eyes snapped open. He hadn't even realized they were close. “Shut up,” he growled, cheeks burning as he cut a gaze towards the door, only a few footsteps away.   
  
He yelped as he was abruptly spun, his back slamming against the wall, one hand planting near his head as the other tangled in his hair. Ichimaru faced him, the grin on his lips too empty for Renji to read it. A question fought to the forefront of Renji's mind. Or some sort of angered retort. He wasn't sure which because Ichimaru kissed him then, pushing his tongue into Renji's mouth and laying claim with the wet appendage.   
  
Renji winced as his hair was tugged, but submitted to the kiss. The skilled tongue winnowed its way, stroking across his own and demanding that Renji participate. He groaned beneath the onslaught, the heavy scent of musk and sex hanging thickly in the air. He could feel the streaks of semen drying on his flesh and Renji desperately wanted a bath.  
  
The kiss ended with a lazy nip to his lips and he watched as Ichimaru licked his lips, lifting a leg and nudging it against Renji's groin. His traitorous cock had liked the kiss more than it should have and sluggishly stirred, lying half-hard.   
  
“Ready fer more, Renji-kun?” Ichimaru purred, and it sounded like he were mocking Renji. Obnoxiously so.   
  
A low growl echoed in Renji's chest. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately: Ichimaru brought out the recklessness in him. And the anger.   
  
But he didn't argue. He knew where his position landed him. He just had to remind himself what he was doing this for. And firmly remind his traitorous organ that he wasn't supposed to be _enjoying_ this.   
  
“Just do it,” he muttered, and tilted his head back, baring his throat for Ichimaru's interest. “Get it over with.”   
  
A tongue dragged up his throat, wet and warm, before teeth followed, grazing lightly. “I'd rather take my time,” Ichimaru returned, his fingers tightening in Renji's hair.   
  
What could he do but submit? He'd made his decision already. It would be worth it, he reminded himself, to see Kira smile like he used to in the Academy.  
  
And Renji refused to fail.   


***


	4. Stars Came Falling

Time passed. Renji hardly noticed it. He trained with Ikakku-san daily, worked to become stronger, and hungered after higher positions. And from time to time, he came when Ichimaru called him. Or to save himself the embarrassment, he met the captain at some obscure location or at Ichimaru's quarters.   
  
Today was no exception.   
  
“Izuru is lonely, Renji-kun.”   
  
The almost off-hand statement threw Renji off his rhythm, and he peeled open his eyes, looking up at the captain as he slid his tongue along Ichimaru's cock.   
  
Fingers tangled in his hair, helping to direct the movement of his mouth. “Ya can't be leavin' him all alone. Whatcha gonna do about that?”   
  
Renji scowled, and let Ichimaru's cock fall from his mouth just to retort. “You let me worry about that,” he muttered, purposefully sliding his fingers around the base of the captain's cock. “You just don't touch him.”   
  
Ichimaru chuckled, sitting back in his chair like some sort of perverse master on his throne. “My, I wish I had such a protective friend.” His hand coursed through Renji's hair encouragingly. “Willin' to do anythin' fer me.”   
  
Renji snorted, and tried to think of Ichimaru being friends with anyone, and realized he couldn't think of a single one. Well, there were some rumors he was pretty friendly with Matsumoto sometimes. And Ichimaru did occasionally hang out at the eleventh division with Zaraki-taichou. But otherwise, he was pretty much a loner. Huh. Served 'im right. Maybe if he stopped smiling creepily at everyone and stopped acting like a bastard, he'd have more friends.   
  
“Yer borin' me, Renji-kun,” Ichimaru reprimanded, and Renji realized that his motions had stopped in the midst of his thoughts.   
  
He glared up at the captain and lowered his lips back to Ichimaru's cock, the simple act of swirling his tongue around the heated flesh something he never would have thought himself capable of doing. But after the first time, it had only gotten easier, and now he was almost ashamed to say that he knew exactly what it took to get Ichimaru off the quickest. Though if he did that Ichimaru recovered quickly, and often wanted to do other things afterward.  
  
Ichimaru purred, his hips rocking towards Renji's mouth, a dark need glittering in half-slitted eyes. Renji carefully closed his eyes, having learned that it was better not to look at Ichimaru. Otherwise he started to notice things. Like Ichimaru's face in the midst of his orgasm, how an attractive array of reds painted pale skin. Or how it always seemed to wipe away that fucking creepy grin. And no way in hell was Renji going to admit this stuff to himself. Or aloud. So he kept his damn eyes shut.   
  
It never helped much, because Ichimaru was even more chatty during sex then he was he was at any other time. His voice was always a constant litany, a purr through Renji's senses, reminding him with every second just who he was entangled with. Renji heard his damn voice in his _sleep_.   
  
“Very good,” Ichimaru murmured, and Renji wanted to snarl because he didn't need encouragement like some damn weak or blushing bottom.   
  
Instead, he just growled low in his throat, let the vibrations rattle around in his mouth, and flicked his tongue across the sensitive head of Ichimaru's cock. The captain's breathing was sharp and shallow, echoing in the silence of Ichimaru's quarters.   
  
Ichimaru shifted, and Renji felt a tabi-clad foot prod at his half-hard cock, sliding silkily across his skin. Renji twitched, shifting away, but Ichimaru was relentless and when Renji looked up, a smirk glittered in his eyes. Fingers trekked through Renji's unbound hair, subtly guiding his head. His hips moved in a ragged rhythm, the cock in Renji's mouth swelling.   
  
Ichimaru was getting close, precum coating Renji's tongue and slithering down his throat. He drew back to briefly lick his lips and then took Ichimaru into his mouth again, fingers encircling the base of Ichimaru's cock. Ichimaru sucked in a breath, and then Renji felt Ichimaru swell in his mouth, the captain stiffening. He abruptly shuddered, releasing into the wet heat of Renji's mouth.   
  
He grunted, allowing the captain to do as he wished while waiting for an opportunity to drew back. Bitter release washed over his tongue and Renji grimaced, the last spurt his key to draw back. Only the fingers tangled in his hair wouldn't let him. Mouth full, Renji rolled a glare up at the captain but Ichimaru just grinned at him, something glittering behind his slitted eyes.   
  
Renji had no choice to swallow, and only then did Ichimaru allow him to pull back. Renji coughed, making a disgusted face as he swiped the back of his hand over his mouth. He glared angrily, heat behind his eyes.   
  
“Bastard,” he swore, unable to get the bitter taste off his tongue. “Why'd you do that?”   
  
Ichimaru practically purred at him. “It's not sexy when ya spit it out like tha',” he said, smirking pulling at his lips. “A man might think ya didn't like it.”   
  
“I don't!” Renji retorted indignantly, pulling back a pace and preparing to rise to his feet.   
  
Ichimaru had other plans, apparently, because he reached down and fisted a handful of Renji's shitagi, hauling him upwards. Renji sprawled across Ichimaru, those lips crashing down over his and a tongue squirreling into his mouth.   
  
The captain's hand winnowed its way into Renij's hakama, taking advantage of the slit in the side. And long fingers searched out Renji's cock, giving it a light pull. Renji unconsciously arched into the touch, his hips raggedly thrusting forward. His cock utterly betrayed him by seeping at the tip, recognizing Ichmaru's hand and liking it.   
  
Ichimaru broke away from his lips to tongue across Renji's throat, grazing with his teeth. “This way we both benefit, ne?”   
  
“It isn't... about me,” Renji groaned, hands clutching to the other captain's shoulders as his hips surged forward into skilled touches, unable to resist.   
  
“Oh, but it is,” Ichimaru purred, and his lips traveled lower, mouthing Renji's collarbone. There was a sharp sting as he sucked on Renji's skin, drawing up a bright mark. “I won't enjoy it unless ya do, too.”   
  
Renji hissed, a verbal argument dying on his lips. A thumb stroked over the leaking head of his cock, Ichimaru's hand too skilled for Renji to last long. The scent of sex was thick in the air, and he could still taste that bastard on his tongue.   
  
A hand winnowed upwards, jerking on Renji's hair tie and letting his hair fall loose around Renji's head. It was an annoying habit that Ichimaru followed every time and Renji scowled; his hair was such a pain to put back up.   
  
“Why the hell do ya do that?” he demanded, trying to forestall the inevitable.   
  
Ichimaru smirked against his skin. “The color suits ya,” he replied, promptly dragging his fingers through the long tresses. “Renji-kun looks best draped in blood.”   
  
“Freak.”   
  
“Izuru-chan, on the other hand, looks better with tears in his eyes,” Ichimaru added, positioning his lips near Renji's ear and purring into it, wet heat ghosting over the sensitive shell. “Makes 'im cuter.” He twisted his wrist, stroking Renji's cock with expert skill.   
  
Renji snarled. “Stop talkin' about him like that. He's not a toy.”   
  
“Ya gonna wrap him in plastic, Renji-kun?” Ichimaru asked, of all things, his breath puffing over Renji's skin. “Keep him in a glass cage?”   
  
Holding back a gasp as Ichimaru expertly stroked him, Renji gritted his teeth. “What the hell are ya talkin' about?”   
  
“Hmm, I wonder,” Ichimaru replied dispassionately, and his mouth wandered to do other things. Marking up Renj's collarbone for one, making him scowl angrily.   
  
Ichimaru released his hold on Renji's shitagi, sliding his fingers beneath the folds of cloth and searching out a nipple. The flat of his palm rubbed over it before he deftly pinched slowly puckering flesh, making Renji swear lowly. Teeth grazed over his shoulder and then Renji hissed as Ichimaru _bit_ him, actually bit him, teeth digging into skin and sending a spike of jabbing pain through his body.   
  
Renji would have liked to sputter indignantly, curse loudly and pull away, but the unexpected pain sent a thrill of lust across his body. And he jerked, emptying into Ichimaru's hold, pleasure slicing through his senses. He could practically feel Ichimaru smirking against his skin, proud as always to make Renji lose control.   
  
Panting, Renji pulled back from the captain and tried to rearrange his clothing, instituting a certain distance. His body thrummed from his release, and he hated that Ichimaru could make him feel that good.   
  
“Weren't ya sposed ta be somewhere, Renji-kun?” Ichimaru asked mildly, shifting in his chair as he eyed the vice-captain.   
  
Renji glanced at the clock, and nearly choked on his tongue. “Dammit, it's yer fault if I'm late!” he cursed, scrabbling backwards and lunging for a box of tissue. He hurriedly dabbed at the spots of come on his clothes and tossed the rest of the box at Ichimaru, barely noticing if the man caught it or not.   
  
Ichimaru held up his soiled hand. “What? Yer not goin' ta lick it clean fer me?”  
  
“That's disgustin',” Renji retorted, a scowl twisting his lips.   
  
“It's such a waste though,” Ichimaru countered, tossing him a sly look. His tongue snaked out, lapping over one finger lasciviously. “Ya should always clean up yer messes.”   
  
Speechless, Renji ignored the heat in his cheeks and pointedly looked away. “It's yer fault,” he muttered, and prayed fervently that Ichimaru didn't make a command of it.   
  
But no, the captain just utilized the tissues Renji had given him, tossing the used ones in a nearby wastebasket. He watched as Renji tied the obi over his hakama, trying to make himself look presentable without a required clothes change and bath. Without looking, Renji could feel the weight of Ichimaru's gaze, and it annoyed him.   
  
“Stop lookin' at me like that,” he muttered, reaching up to tie his hair back into its familiar ponytail and winding his bandanna – white this time – over his head.   
  
“Mebbe I like lookin' atcha,” Ichimaru returned bemusedly.   
  
“Well... stop.” Lame, lame, lame, his mind chorused at him, but well, Renji never really knew how to respond to the captain, toeing the line between recklessness and propriety. Not that there was really much of the latter in their... relationship, for lack of a better word.   
  
“Do I make ya uncomfortable?”   
  
“That's a stupid question,” Renji retorted, unable to say the truth aloud.   
  
Because while he still thought that Ichimaru was a bastard and creepy as hell, it wasn't so much that Ichimaru made him uncomfortable anymore as that he just didn't want to enjoy what was happening to him. He wasn't _supposed_ to. This was for Kira's sake, not his own. And yet, he'd somehow gotten accustomed to it. Accustomed to pleasure at Ichimaru's hands and dealing with the evidence of their liaisons.   
  
Renji forced himself to remember why he was doing this. Because Ichimaru was an asshole who was taking advantage of Renji's best friend. And he didn't like it. Not one bit.  
  
He turned to leave, a butterfly nest of emotions fluttering about in his belly.   
  
“Congratulations on the promotion, Renji-kun,” Ichimaru called after him, prompting Renji to pause, glancing at him quizzically. “Kuchiki-hime should be proud of such a fine vice-captain.”   
  
Renji didn't know if that were sincere or not. He couldn't tell. Not when Ichimaru gave him that same stupid grin, his eyes carefully slitted. So despite the heat staining his cheeks at what seemed to be a compliment, Renji scowled.   
  
“Whatever,” he muttered, and excused himself, all too happily escaping into the night. He had somewhere to be after all and Ichimaru was fucking weird anyways.   
  
He was supposed to meet the others for drinks, they all planning to buy him at least one in congrats of his advancement. Renji was glad for their enthusiasm, but he wished he was able to tell Rukia as well. Unfortunately, she wasn't here for him to relay the message. And even if she were, he doubted she would have the time to listen to him.   
  
Renji hurried, rushing through the streets of Seireitei and out one of the gates, straight into Rukongai. They were supposed to meet at one of their favorite bars in the mid-districts, where rules were less strict and a drunken fight with the locals was sure to spice up any night. And Renji planned to get fully smashed, hoping that the cheap beer would be enough to wash the taste – and the memories – of Ichimaru from his mouth.   
  
He passed a few people he knew, some who stopped to offer their congratulations, but otherwise, Renji made a beeline for the bar. Noise and smell assaulted him before he even stepped through the door, the sound of a large crowd and many bodies, all crowded in together. He spotted his friends immediately, the five of them having claimed one corner of the bar for themselves.   
  
Iba-san was the first to notice him, saluting Renji with a raised pitcher of beer. “Yo, Abarai! Over here!”   
  
“Yeah, get your late ass over here!” Ikkaku-san added with a slightly drunken laugh. Renji wondered how long the bald Shinigami had been at it, a distinct flush to his cheeks.   
  
Renji scowled, working his way through the crowd. “Not my fault. I had some last-minute stuff to do for Zaraki-taichou.”   
  
Yumichika eyed him with some disbelief, one hand twirling the frou-frou girly drink he always consumed in large numbers because they were beautiful. “I don't recall taichou telling you to do anything,” he commented, suspicion in his gaze.   
  
Rolling his eyes, Renji pulled up the last chair and plopped down into it, right between Hisagi-senpai and Kira, the former patting him on the back and the latter giving him a smile of greeting. “Well, he did,” Renji retorted.   
  
“Yeah, right.” Ikakku-san snorted and took a deep pull of his beer, wiping the foam away from his lips. “It wouldn't have anythin' to do with that mark, now would it?”   
  
“Mark?” Renji felt dread course through him, though he hid it well.   
  
Hisagi-senpai lifted a brow, poking at Renji with one somewhat unsteady finger, right where Renji's bare chest showed through his disarrayed shitagi. “This one, Abarai.”   
  
“Yeah, what girl mauled you, man?” Iba-san asked, dark sunglasses shielding his face despite the fact he was indoors. “She must've been some beast.”   
  
“It wasn't like that!” Renji scowled indignantly, resisting the urge to cover himself like some embarrassed chick. He hadn't even realized Ichimaru had left a mark on him, and wished like hell he'd thought about looking in the mirror before he rushed over here.   
  
The others laughed, certain Renji was just hiding the truth out of embarrassment, but it was Kira's reaction that surprised Renji the most. He got a strange look in his eyes, and hid behind his mug. Renji wanted to ask him about it, but Ikakku-san chose that moment to shove a tankard his direction, nearly spilling the precious liquid inside.   
  
“Drink up,” Ikakku-san urged. “We're supposed to be celebrating. Even if you almost ditched us for yer girlfriend.”   
  
“I didn't say there was one,” Renji retorted, curling his fingers around the cheap wood and taking a deep pull of it. He grimaced as it washed over his tongue.   
  
Hisagi-senpai grinned, nudging him with one elbow. “Must be why we don't see you anymore. You and Kira. The both of you have other _obligations_.”   
  
Kira sat up, squaring his shoulders as a light flush stained his cheeks. “There's a lot of work as a vice-captain, Hisagi-senpai. You should know that, too!”   
  
“Not as much as you make it out to be.” Ikakku-san laughed. “I think Ichimaru-taichou just assigns extra stuff to keep you busy.”   
  
“Yeah, seriously,” Iba-san agreed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and preparing to shove them in his mouth. “None of us do have as much paperwork as you, Kira. Does Ichimaru-taichou do any of it?”   
  
Kira frowned, glowering at the seventh-division vice-captain. “Some of us are better at some things than others.”   
  
“Ah, come on guys, quit ribbing Kira,” Renji cut in, wiggling his mug for emphasis. “This is supposed ta be a celebration, right?”   
  
“Easy for you to say,” Yumichika muttered with a sniff, giving them all an askance look. “I'm the lucky babysitter for the night.” Meaning, he was the one who got to stay relatively sober while the rest of the dumb bastards got drunk off their asses.   
  
Ikakku-san slung an arm over his best friend's shoulder, swinging his hand around to poke Yumichika in the cheek – a lot like poking a sleeping dragon Renji thought to himself. “Aww, Yumi, I promise not ta let Iba puke on ya this time.”   
  
The fifth-seat sniffed. “You'll be lucky if you don't end up in a ditch.” Purple eyes slanted at the bald Shinigami. “I might just take care of Kira-kun and leave the rest of you morons to your fate.”   
  
“That's not 'xactly fair, Yumi,” Ikakku-san retorted, his expression dangerously approaching a pout.   
  
Renji rolled his eyes and reached across the table, lightly smacking the third seat across the head. “Stop flirtin' and pay attention. Where's all the celebration, man?”   
  
Ikakku-san squawked and glared, rubbing his head. “Yeah, cause Yumi would be my first choice if I started going after dick,” he commented sarcastically.   
  
“I have higher standards,” Yumichika retorted and winked at Kira, taking a large sip from his fruity drink. The blond promptly reddened, and hid further behind his drink.   
  
“He's just mad because he can't find any men to seduce and then destroy tonight,” Ikakku-san stated loudly.   
  
Beside Renji, Hisagi-senpai sighed and shook his head. “You know, they wonder why we can't believe they're just best friends when they act like that.”   
  
Renji had to agree, and he lifted his tankard, planning on getting fully smashed. He watched as Iba-san got involved in the disagreement between the two best friends, and Yumichika noisily pulled Kira into it. No doubt it would actually be Hisagi-senpai who ended up babysitting tonight as was usually the case.   
  
He resolved to enjoy himself because that was his intention to the start. He pushed aside all thoughts of Ichimaru and fucking and Ichimaru fucking him to the back of his mind and concentrated on forgetting. And celebrating.   
  
After all, he'd worked damn hard to get that position and he wasn't going to let anything screw it up. He had to catch up to Kuchiki Byakuya and surpass him. That was Renji's goal. Otherwise he wouldn't have anything to show Rukia whenever she came back from her patrol in the Living World.   


\- - - - -

  
  
“I think I need to reconsider my friends,” Hisagi-senpai grumbled, an unconscious Yumichika thrown over one shoulder as he held tightly to the back of Ikakku-san's shihakushou. The drunken Shinigami was threatening one of the other inebriated patrons of the bar, slurring insults and wobbling unsteadily.   
  
Renji chuckled, a bit lit himself, and held onto a swaying Kira, the blond snuggled up against his side like a warm blanket. “Don't worry, senpai. Next time it's Kira's turn and you know how he takes his responsibilities seriously.”   
  
“If he manages to show up,” Hisagi-senpai muttered, his eyes tracking around for Iba-san whom the both of them had lost sight of some time ago. And he was the least drunk of the lot. “Where the hell is Tetsuzaemon?”   
  
Renji looked around, but couldn't spy the seventh-division captain anywhere. “Hell if I know.”   
  
The other vice-captain let out a sound of frustration. “Know what? Fuck it. I've got enough on my hands.” He gave a yank to Ikakku-san's shitagi to prove his point and the man stumbled back towards him with a yelp. He eyed Renji and Kira. “Think you can get Kira back?”   
  
“Sure, no sweat,” Renji answered, as he hadn't gotten as drunk as he'd liked. He'd been too distracted by the things he'd told himself not to think about it.   
  
“I can make it on my own,” Kira mumbled unconvincingly, though his hand clutched onto Renji's shitagi tightly.   
  
Renji snorted. “Yeah, okay. Whatever, Kira,” he retorted, and he shot Hisagi-senpai an amused look. “Good luck, senpai. See ya at the meetin' tomorrow.”   
  
Hisagi-senpai groaned. “And here I'd almost forgotten. Take care of him, Renji.” And with that, he wobbled out of the crowd, dragging Ikakku-san along with him. Yumichika made a low sound of nausea, prompting Hisagi to snap, “Don't you dare puke on me, Ayasegawa!”   
  
Chuckling, Renji turned himself and Kira in another direction, heading for the third division first.   
  
“I don't think I said it yet, Abarai-kun.”   
  
Kira's vague comment confused Renji, who adjusted the other vice-captain's weight on his side. “What ya talkin' about, Kira?”   
  
“Congratulations. I don't think I said it yet.” Kira frowned, furrowing his brow in a manner that was kinda-sorta cute, though Renji would never admit it aloud. “Being a vice-captain, it's a pretty big step.”   
  
“Err, thanks,” Renji responded, a bit embarrassed by the heartfelt congratulations, even if it was just a bit drunken. He could always count on Kira to be honest with him. It was one of the reasons they had such a good friendship.   
  
Even if it seemed to have waned in the past years. Ironically coinciding with the amount of time Kira had spent under Ichimaru. Ack. Under. Very bad choice of words there.   
  
“And Kuchiki-taichou... he's probably not easy to work with,” Kira continued, dangerously approaching a babble. And Renji vaguely remembered that a drunk Kira was a loquacious Kira. Sometimes fun, sometimes not. “He's kind of... cold, isn't he?”   
  
_'At least he ain't creepy like Ichimaru_ ,' Renji thought, but he kept it to himself. Kira was pretty defensive about his captain, which raised all sorts of questions in Renji's book. But he never asked them for that very reason. Maybe Ichimaru was right and he was misunderstanding something about the situation. But it wasn't like he could just come out and ask questions either. It was hard for Renji to believe that Kira was submitting to that kind of thing out of his own free will.   
  
“It'll be a challenge,” Renji admitted cautiously, wondering where Kira was heading in that long train of thought.   
  
Kira nodded, stumbling a second and clutching tighter onto Renji's shihakushou. His cheeks were flushed an attractive shade – no bad thoughts – as he hummed thoughtfully.   
  
“I wonder if Ichimaru-taichou still wants me as his vice-captain.”   
  
Well, that comment kind of came out of nowhere. It startled Renji, who reacted to just the sound of Ichimaru's name the same every time around. Something tightened in his belly, burned in his chest, and his heart skipped several beats. Flashes of pleasure danced across his brain and he fought them off, wildly waving an inner zanpakutou.   
  
“What're you talkin' 'bout, Kira?”   
  
Kira shrugged, all pretend nonchalance, but there was a definite disappointment lingering in his expression. His eyes cast towards the ground, shifting pointedly away from Renji. “He doesn't call on me like he used to. He just pats me on the head, calls me his cute little Izuru-chan, and then it's business as usual.” And now the look on his face was a definite sulk.   
  
In the meantime, Renji was feeling considerably uncomfortable. Knowing what he did, he knew what Kira was really talking about. But he had to pretend ignorance and look at it through the eyes of someone who was clueless. Even so, it sounded suspect.   
  
“Maybe he's just busy,” Renji suggested, hating that Kira could sound so disappointed by the lack of attention from his perverted captain. “I'm pretty sure he's not goin' ta transfer you or anythin'. Yer the best vice-captain he could have,” Renji reassured, and wondered when he'd become some kind of advice-giver.   
  
He was the last person anyone should seek for comfort. He wasn't any good at it.   
  
Luckily, the third division was coming into view, the journey back to Seireitei having taken a shorter time than Renji would have expected. But then, he wasn't entirely sober himself so there was a good chance he blurred out a good bit of the walk.   
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Kira responded quietly, but even Renji couldn't tell that he wasn't quite convinced. He fell into a somber silence, one that didn't suit him at all, but wasn't unusual for this new Kira that wasn't like the Kira he knew from the Academy.   
  
Ichimaru had changed him far too much. Renji didn't like it at all.   
  
He kept his eyes peeled for the silver-haired captain as he crept into the third division, briefly nodding at one of the patrolling division members. They recognized him and waved, looking fondly at Kira stumbling at his side. Renji wasn't surprised that Kira was well-liked in his division. It was really hard to hate someone like Kira.   
  
He knew his way to Kira's quarters by now, having been in this situation before, which was a good thing because Kira was starting to sag at his side. Steps more confused and tangled, eyes drooping visibly. He never did hold his alcohol too well, especially when those bastards aka Ikkaku-san and Iba-san, started shoving liquor at him. And for some reason, Kira was really tossing them back tonight. He rarely drank like that. And he hadn't been very forthcoming with conversation either. Another oddity.   
  
Renji slid open the door to Kira's quarters with a grunt and gratefully stumbled inside, Kira becoming a rather dead weight. Renji fumbled his way to the back room, lit only by moonlight cascading in through open blinds and with a grunt, half-tossed, half-dropped Kira onto his futon. Luckily, the blond had been thoughtful enough to lay it out before he met them at the bar.   
  
Dropping to his knees, Renji grabbed for Kira's waraji, not wanting his friend to sleep fully clothed. Kira blinked sleepily at him, his blue eyes unnaturally bright in the darkness. Not quite helping, but not quite hindering either.   
  
“Abarai-kun?”   
  
“Just go ta sleep, Kira. Yer gonna have a nasty headache in the mornin',” Renji said, tossing the sandals over his shoulder. They scattered somewhere in the darkness. Bah, it wasn't his responsibility to clean up messes.   
  
Kira made a noise that could have been agreement, his eyelids fluttering. “You're a nice guy, Abarai-kun. No wonder ev'ryone admires you.”   
  
“Not everyone,” Renji assured him, though he wondered why he discussed this with a drunk. “I've still got a long way to go.”   
  
“But you're strong,” Kira argued back and his hand snapped out, snagging Renji's arm when the redhead moved to rise to his feet. His eyes searched out Renji's, trapping them in their azure stare. “People can't help but like you. Everyone likes you. I like you.”   
  
Kira was babbling now and though it confused Renji, he let it slide. He'd never seen such an expression on Kira's face, but Renji dismissed it. Kira was drunk after all, he didn't know what he was saying.   
  
He tried to extract himself from Kira's hold but the blond's fingers tightened, holding on with the strength of the inebriated. Renji squawked as he was dragged down until he nearly fell atop Kira. The heat in the other man's cheeks had deepened alluringly, and Renji swallowed thickly.   
  
“Kira--”   
  
“Everyone likes you but I really like you,” Kira repeated earnestly. “I've always liked you.”   
  
Renji didn't quite know what to say. The air felt heavy, expectant, and he thought now was a pretty good time for him to escape. Kira didn't know what he was saying and Renji didn't want him to regret anything in the morning. His heart was pounding in his chest for some reason and Kira was unnaturally close. Too close.   
  
Kira let go of his arm and Renji tried to pull back, but the release was brief. Those hands flashed out, cupping Renji's face. And before he could react, Kira had pulled their heads together, his mouth slanting over Renji's. It was a sloppy kiss, soft and wet, tasting strongly of alcohol. Renji recognized dimly that he should be resisting, but Kira was soft against his mouth, an underlying sweetness to the kiss, and he helplessly groaned, actively participating.   
  
Ichimaru's taunts about wanting Kira echoed in the back of his mind. Renji had always considered them to have no merit. Kira was his friend, not a potential lover. But now... now he was beginning to think there might have been some truth to Ichimaru's insinuations. And that truth stirred in his gut, twisted heat through his groin, and drizzled down his spine.   
  
Kira ended the kiss and their lips hovered teasingly apart. He could feel the blond's breath against his lips. Renji opened his mouth to say something, his body yearning for more, quicker than his mind could catch up.   
  
But the hands fell slack from his face as Kira blinked sleepily, and slipped into unconsciousness. He fell back against the futon, blond hair lying messily against the side of his face.   
  
Renji was left utterly perplexed and staring, the lingering aftertaste of Kira on his lips. What... the hell was that? He blinked, unconsciously lifting a hand to his mouth. Why had Kira kissed him?   
  
He backed away slowly, tossing a small blanket over Kira so that he didn't get cold during the night, and rising to his feet.  
  
Renji padded quietly through the darkness, closing the door to Kira's quarters behind him, something stirring inside of him. He wasn't supposed to see Kira through Ichimaru's eyes, but damn if he didn't want the blond now. It thrummed through his body, and was very obvious in the ache in his cock.   
  
Renji groaned, resisting the urge to hit his head against the wall. Just what he needed. More complications.   


*********


	5. To Fix the Twist

The cot was uncomfortable, digging into his bare back. Renji stared at the ceiling, anger growing behind his eyes. He seethed internally, but more for his defeat than anything else. He couldn't believe he had been defeated by that human brat. How could that kid get so powerful so damn quickly? It was just _stupid_.   
  
Worse, now he was stuck here, in this cell, unable to do a damn thing about anything. Not about the ryoka invasion. Not about Rukia's pending execution. Not about anything. He was as useless now as he had always been. Powerless and useless. Where did he get off thinking he could reach Kuchiki Byakuya? He couldn't even defeat some punk from the Living World! Strolling in here with his bright hair and his cocky attitude, talking about he was going to save Rukia. A job that should have belonged to Renji but didn't anymore because he just wasn't good enough. He hadn't saved her then, why did he deserve to do so now?   
  
And strangely, Renji believed that cocky bastard. He thought Ichigo could actually do it. Where Renji had failed, he thought Ichigo might succeed, even if it seemed the odds were stacked against him. And it burned, it boiled in Renji's blood. All his training, his drive, it was for _nothing_.   
  
A low chuckle pulled him from his self-loathing. Renji peeled open his eyes, focusing through the darkness towards the bars of his cell. He thought he recognized that laugh, having heard it far too often in the past few weeks. It made him think of nights of nothing but sex, submitting his body to another for the sake of his best friend.   
  
Renji's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the third division captain on the other side of the bars, and wished he could sit up to a better position. But his wounds still ached. So the best he could do was glare at Ichimaru, fingers curling into loose fists.   
  
“My, Renji-kun, ya look a little beaten.”   
  
“Shut up,” he snarled, because he really didn't want to hear it from Ichimaru right now. He knew he had failed. He didn't need that bastard reminding him.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled again, his fingers sliding across the metal of the bars. “That ryoka really did a number on ya. He didn't seem too strong ta me.”   
  
“You're the one that let 'im get away!” Renji retorted, even though he was partially glad that had happened. Because Ichigo could save Rukia.   
  
“Did I?” Ichimaru tilted his head to the side, something glittering behind his half-slitted eyes. “Oops. My mistake.”   
  
A flurry of emotions soared through Renji, though frustration topped the pile. “Did ya come here just ta mock me?”   
  
“Perhaps.” Ichimaru moved to the door, producing a key from somewhere and letting himself inside. He slid the gate shut behind him, though he didn't lock it into place. “Mebbe I jes like seein' ya helpless.”   
  
Renji stilled, wondering if Ichimaru were really that perverted to attack a completely defenseless man. “Pervert,” he hissed, all too aware of his nudity. Renji wasn't normally self-conscious about such a thing, but he could feel Ichimaru's gaze raking over him, practically eating him alive with his eyes alone.   
  
And he hated that his body wanted to respond, tightening in places that had no business reacting to Ichimaru's presence.   
  
Ichimaru moved into the room, until he stood at the side of Renji's bed, looking down on him. There was something strange in those half-slitted eyes of his, something that Renji couldn't identify and it made him very uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to squirm.   
  
“What do you want?” Renji asked, belligerent because he was already in prison, shackled to a cot. There wasn't much more Ichimaru could do to him at this moment. Besides, he'd gotten the impression that Ichimaru enjoyed his aggressiveness.   
  
The captain chuckled, lifting one pale hand and dancing his fingers spider-like across Renji's bare chest. Tracing dark, marked lines. “Always the knight and never the prince, ne, Abarai-kun?” Ichimaru asked, flicking one finger over a flattened nipple before continuing the random tracing.  
  
Renji bit his lip, refusing to respond, even if his heart thudded loudly in his chest, too used to Ichimaru's presence. “What are you talking about?”   
  
The hand abruptly flattened in the middle of his chest, Ichimaru's palm fever-hot against his skin, making his flesh prickle. The captain leaned over, closer now, his face mere inches from Renji's own. His breath warm as it washed over Renji, his hair smelling like an odd mixture of blood and smoke and ice.   
  
“Ya want ta save her, but it looks like Kurosaki'll get there first,” Ichimaru said, leaning his weight down on Renji's chest, his reiatsu prickling as it flooded Renji's skin, making him itch all over. “Just some ryoka from somewhere, savin' yer precious?”   
  
Renji twitched, unable to move beneath Ichimaru's strength and reiatsu, feeling the prickle like a thousand blades pressing against his skin. Ichimaru just smirked, blithely continuing, ignoring Renji's struggles.   
  
“Ya can't save Rukia. Ya can't save Izuru...” He paused, cocking his head to the side as he lifted his palm, dragging his nails down Renji's chest. “Ya can't even save yerself. Ya really can't save anyone, can ya? Yer nothin' but a bunch of empty promises.”   
  
“Bastard!” Renji growled, something inside of him clenching, dragging down, swelling until it felt like he couldn't breathe. Because Ichimaru was wrong but he was right and Renji _hated_ it, _despised_ it. Loathed _him_ with a passion he'd never felt so strongly before.  
  
“What do you know about anything?” Renji demanded, the heated glare emerging from his eyes the only weapon he had in this dark cell. His manacles rattled and he could feel Zabimaru inside of him, hissing with displeasure, wanting to break free.   
  
He'd gotten stronger over the months, over the weeks. With vice-captain badge in hand, Renji had aimed higher. And even so, he still could not beat Ichimaru! He was still just as weak and powerless as he had been before. And Renji hated it.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled, the sound echoing around the cell. Somewhere beyond them, voices shouted, and Renji knew that battles still raged. He longed to be out there, doing something, doing anything more than sitting useless in this cell. They needed him!   
  
“A lot more than ya think,” Ichimaru answered, his reiatsu vibrating around him. “I know my vice-captain, Abarai. And I think by now, I know ya, too.”   
  
Confused, Renji's sharp retort fall flat and empty. He didn't know what in the world Ichimaru hinted to, but he didn't like the strange edge in the captain's voice. Usually teasing and mocking, there was something different in Ichimaru's tone. Something that didn't speak of malice, but regret perhaps. And sorrow? Renji wasn't sure, his own emotions coloring his interpretation too much for his understanding.   
  
“He's stronger than ya think,” Ichimaru continued, without prompting on Renji's part. “But fragile, too. Take care of him, ne? Think even you can manage tha'?”   
  
Renji shifted uneasily, not liking the look in Ichimaru's eyes. “What the hell are you talking about, Ichimaru? Kira can take care of himself!”   
  
“He can and he can't,” Ichimaru corrected, silver hair catching an odd gleam from the lights. “So 'm leavin' him to you. Since yer the most protective knight and all.”   
  
He didn't like the sound of it, even if those words conjured up other thoughts. Of a single drunken night where Kira kissed him, the feel and taste of Kira's lips lingering long afterwards. A drunken kiss that had never been mentioned again, as though Kira didn't remember it and Renji was too confused to bring up again.   
  
Ichimaru had always been a cryptic bastard, but whatever he was doing right now really confused the hell out of Renji. It left him speechless, unsure what Ichimaru was actually doing here, why he was saying these kinds of things. It sounded like he planned on leaving, resigning from the Gotei-13 perhaps? But where would he go? What would he do?   
  
“So ya better get out of this cell, Renji-kun. 'Cause ya can't do it from here.”   
  
“Easy fer you to say,” Renji retorted, rattling his manacles pointedly. “You're not the one locked up in here.”   
  
Ichimaru chuckled and leaned closer, his breath washing moist over Renji's lips. “Won't be long now,” he murmured enigmatically, and then he kissed Renji, with no warning whatsoever.   
  
Ichimaru's tongue slithered into his mouth, something soft and gentle, rather than harsh and possessing like Renji would have expected. His hand was a hot presence on Renji's chest, sizzling across his skin. And then Ichimaru ended the kiss, unexpectedly quickly, with a parting nip to Renji's lips.   
  
He pulled back, one finger tracing a line down the middle of Renji's chest before Ichimaru drew away completely, leaving no explanation. Not even a hint of expression. Renji was left gaping at the thin outline of his back, the symbol of the third division stark against the whiteness of Ichimaru's haori.   
  
And then Ichimaru was gone, leaving Renji alone in his cell, only a disgruntled Zabimaru for company. The taste of Ichimaru lingering on his lips.  
  
Little did he know, but that was the last time he would ever see Ichimaru as an ally.   


\-------

  
  
Standing on the high cliff of the Soukyouku Hill, clinging desperately to Rukia, Renji wanted nothing more than to escape, to bring her somewhere safe. He stood staring, mouth agape, as the truth of recent events unfolded before him. The air was thick with the odor of smoke and blood, the acrid taste of betrayal.   
  
Renji watched as everything he thought he knew about Soul Society and his allies, about loyalty and trust, crumbled to dust.   
  
He failed there on the hill, as he had everywhere else. Aizen ripped through him and Ichigo as though they were nothing but paper dolls, utterly worthless in his eyes. And Renji was forced to watch as Aizen, a man he had once admired, had gone to for advice, condemned Rukia to death. Renji couldn't do anything but lie there and bleed, cursing his own uselessness.   
  
Renji's world attempted to blur, but he clung to consciousness with determined tenacity. He watched as the three traitors rose into the sky, Ichimaru smirking down at all of them. Apologizing to Matsumoto but thinking nothing of Kira who he left behind. Not even sparing a glance to Renji's beaten form. Not looking back once.   
  
Hands curling into fists, heedless to the pain that ripped through him from the simple motion, Renji ground his teeth. He didn't think he had ever hated anyone more in his life than he had at that moment. He watched as the sky closed around Aizen, and he continued watching until the darkness claimed him.   


\----------

  
  
He woke in the fourth division, his body once more stitched together thanks to Unohana-taichou. Renji ached and he seethed, his mind helpfully replaying for him every moment of Aizen's betrayal. Gradually, he healed, but the resentment remained, even long after he was cleared by Unohana-taichou and returned to active duty.   
  
Renji didn't once forget his anger. Not in the following days when he sat by his captain's bedside, thinking of a single match where he managed to force Kuchiki Byakuya to one knee. Not when he visited Rukia, restoring a connection that had been hopelessly fragmented over the years. And not when he visited Hinamori in her private room, watching her breathe with the help of a machine, her eyes twitching behind their closed lids in remembered nightmares.   
  
He felt helpless when he thought of Hinamori's grief, her shattered trust. And the rage always smoldered anew when he thought of the three captain's betrayal. Hisagi-senpai was taking it better than expected, forging a new bond with Komamura-taichou. He would be fine. But Kira... no one wanted to be there for him. No one even tried.   
  
The feelings poured over him all over again, so helpless as he watched Kira walk around as if the world were on his shoulders. Overcome by a sense of responsibility so strong that no one could talk him out of it, even if there were any to try. It was ridiculous. Why had he even gone to Ichimaru in the first place? What had Renji saved Kira from?  
  
He didn't know. But as more time passed, Renji knew he couldn't just watch anymore. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing like everyone else. He had to do _something_.  


\------------

  
  
Renji cursed as he stubbed his toe, and reached down to rub it briefly, once again glancing around the dark corridors of the third division. Ichimaru's betrayal and prompt departure afterwards certainly hadn't improved the mood of the place. Regardless of the lateness of the evening, it shouldn't be this gloomy. But Renji could feel the negativity in the air, hanging around like a bad smell. It made him wonder why anyone would want to be here.   
  
And yet, here Renji was, with a very specific purpose in mind. Kira was here somewhere, hiding as he had been for the past week or so. The aftermath of the betrayal of the three captain's had struck Seireitei particularly hard, and it didn't help that the third, fifth, and ninth divisions were all scrutinized for possible future betrayals. Hinamori was still in the fourth division, hooked up to machines, and Hisagi-senpai had buried himself in paperwork. And Kira... he'd locked himself in the solitude of the third division, not asking for help and not accepting it either. He and Matsumoto had already talked over things, but nothing had been done for the rest.   
  
Renji, knowing what he knew, couldn't help but worry. Kira was acting more like a lover left behind than a vice-captain and people were already talking. The rumors had been a steady stream in the weeks before all this happened, but they were even worse now. Renji saw the looks that Kira had been given, as if he were going to betray them at any moment, to go skipping off to Ichimaru's side.   
  
And a part of Renji worried that might actually happen. Kira had respected Ichimaru, had looked at him as someone to be admired. And somehow, Ichimaru had bound Kira to him, no matter how much Renji tried to protect him from that.   
  
Renji wasn't going to let Kira melt into the darkness. He was going to drag the moping blond out of it if he had to. He hadn't spent a year in Ichimaru's perverted grasp for Kira to mope after him like a lovesick puppy. He wanted the old Kira back. The smiling Kira who tried his damnedest at everything and carried his own sort of strength.   
  
His footsteps echoed in the silent, heavy halls and Renji shivered, remembering this path a bit too much for his liking. Ichimaru had taken him here once before, Renji struggling to hold back any sort of noise lest he be heard, Ichimaru's pale hands on his hips, squeezing. Warm breath in his ear, Ichimaru crooning in some absurd parody of being actual lovers. Shivers racing down his spine and pleasure curling in his gut, twisting and pulling until it surged out of his cock, dripping on his own damned shihakushou.   
  
Renji blinked, forcing himself out of that particular recollection as it came dangerously close to making heat stir through his body. He hated Ichimaru, true, but he couldn't deny the many, many times Ichimaru had made him feel pleasure. Even if he always kept the truth to himself.   
  
He had seen Ichimaru and Kira here, too, once. But Renji was definitely not going down that line of thought so he dismissed it as well. Throwing it as far from the forefront of his mind as everything else he needed desperately to forget.   
  
He reached Kira's door a few moments later, finding it shut tight. Renji didn't even debate, immediately lifting a hand and knocking sharply on the door. Silence greeted his ears at first, until he heard the dim sound of something shuffling within. A faint scrape of feet over the floor, possible movement. And then the door opened with an ominous creak that fit in the third division all too well.   
  
Renji, despite knowing that politeness dictated otherwise, didn't wait to be invited inside, he just pushed through the cracked doorway and into the room, plastering a cheery smile on his face. “Evenin' Kira! Just thought I'd stop by for a visit. Wow, it's dark in here.” And just a bit musty, like a room that's been locked away for a long time, but Renji kept that to himself.   
  
Kira watched him as he bustled around, flipping on some lights and casting a pale orange gleam into the main room of Kira's quarters. The bedroom was through a visible doorway, rumpled covers implying that Kira had barely moved from it.   
  
“Abarai-kun?”   
  
Renji stopped in the midst of wandering around the room, trying and failing to be nonchalant. “What? Can't a guy come by ta pay his friend a visit?”   
  
Kira arched one brow, the dark circles under his eyes having worsened in the past few days. “On a normal day, yes. But even I can tell that you're just here to check up on me. Did Hisagi-senpai send you?”   
  
“No,” Renji scoffed. “I came on my own.” He looked around the room, taking in the disheveled appearance of things. Weird, since Kira was usually such a stickler for keeping things neat and organized.   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Because I wanted to,” Renji snapped sharply, bristling. His eyes cut to the blond. “Somethin' wrong with that?”   
  
Kira blinked, and even Renji felt a bit ashamed of himself for his abrupt words. But he hated seeing Kira look like this over Ichimaru of all people. What was there to miss in that bastard? What could Kira have seen in him?   
  
_“Take care of Izuru-chan, ne, Renji-kun? Think even ya can manage that?”_  
  
Renji scowled, mentally brushing away those words. He wasn't doing this because Ichimaru told him to, but because he was genuinely worried. Rukia didn't need him anymore; that was painfully obvious. Hisagi-senpai was strong, he had his own ways to cope. Hinamori was beyond anything Renji could do. He was only useful here... maybe.   
  
Dammit, he just wanted to see Kira smile again.   
  
The blond shook his head, confusion ripe in his wan expression. “I didn't say that,” Kira continued, and moved to his couch, dropping down into it. Blue eyes looked up at him, a strange coldness behind them. “I never wanted your pity.”   
  
“Pity!” Renji practically squawked, a strange emotion rocketing through him. “Who says this is anythin' to do with pity! I'm just worried about ya. Locked up in here in the dark like some kinda...” He trailed off, frustrated with finding the right words.   
  
“...freak?” Kira supplied, his tone taking a dark edge. “It's not like I don't know, Abarai-kun. I hear things, even if I don't show it. I know what they're saying.”   
  
Frustrated, Renji dropped down into the empty seat next to him, and immediately felt something hard beneath his left hip. He dug around in the cushion, producing a slim sake bottle that didn't make a sound when he shook it. Renji scowled, tossing it over his shoulder.  
  
It shattered somewhere behind him and Kira flinched at the loud sound. Suddenly, some of the not-quite-thereness in Kira's eyes made a hell of a lot sense. Just how much had he drunk?  
  
“I didn't say anythin' 'bout you bein' a freak,” Renji growled, hating that Kira would even think that of him. Had their friendship become so fragile that Kira no longer even trusted him? “What kind of person do ya think I am!”   
  
“I wasn't talking about you,” Kira replied, wincing. Blue eyes looking so very lost and alone that Renji regretted his outburst. “But I've heard the others.” His gaze wandered away, unfocused and unsettled.   
  
Renji drew in a breath, forcing himself to calm. “The others don't understand anythin'. Just ignore 'em.”   
  
“I can't,” Kira said, his tone thick with misery. “Not when I know they might be right. Not when I know what I might have done.”   
  
He didn't elaborate. Renji was afraid to ask. Did he think Kira would really abandon them for Ichimaru? He was ashamed to think it was possible. Even after a year shoved into the middle of these two, Renji was still no closer to understanding the undercurrents of their relationship, if he wanted to call it that. Ichimaru never detailed what Renji was misunderstanding and he couldn't very well ask Kira.   
  
It was uncertainty like that which always made his submission to Ichimaru that much more humiliating. That he was never sure what exactly he defended Kira from was a constant rock in Renji's waraji, digging into his sole with every step.   
  
“Don't be stupid,” Renji retorted, scratching at his chin. He didn't like Kira's tone. “Ya wouldn't betray us. Ya—” He cut off when Kira shook his head, gaze pinned on the empty wall across from him.   
  
Clearly there was something more to this then Renji realized.   
  
Kira gestured vaguely, to the world outside his four walls. “They're watching me, every step I take, just waiting for me to make my final move. They don't suspect it of Hisagi-senpai. They wouldn't dare think such a thing of Hinamori-kun. But me...” he trailed off, pausing to compose himself. “I obeyed him to the last, Abarai-kun. I even attacked Matsumoto-san.”   
  
“She forgave ya for that.”   
  
“That's not the point,” Kira countered, giving him a slanted look from the corner of a blue eye. “I didn't even question and for that, they question me. How much did I know? What's tai-- Ichimaru's next plan? How could I _not_ know?” He slumped, elbows striking his knees, fingers anxiously knotting together. “They forget that I'm the one still left here when tai-- Aizen and Ichimaru took everyone else with them.”   
  
Kira wasn't making any sense.   
  
No, scratch that. Kira was making a worrisome sorta sense. It almost sounded like he wanted to be taken with Ichimaru. That his sorrow wasn't for the betrayal, but for being left behind. That a part of him would have gone, if he had only been asked.   
  
Renji blinked, concern niggling in his belly. And he swore that for just a moment, he heard Ichimaru's mocking laughter in the back of his mind.   
  
_See, Renji-kun?_ It seemed to say. _No matter what you do, he still belongs to me._   
  
Renji growled internally, his hand clenching on the arm of the couch as he shifted on the cushion to look directly at Kira. “Is that what this is about?” he demanded, unable to keep the aggressiveness out of his tone. “You wanted to betray us?”   
  
“That's not my point, Abarai-san!” Kira argued, whirling to face him. One hand slashed through the air, his expression a twisted mixture of emotions. “Someone like you could never understand what it's like to be me. Not even if you tried.”   
  
Why did everyone keep saying that! Ichimaru always told him he didn't know the situation, but he never explained! And even now, Kira was telling him he didn't understand, but no one told him anything! No one gave him the answers! They just went on and on in their own little world, making their own damn decisions, and then expected him to agree with it no matter what he really thought! Just like Rukia when she went with the Kuchiki, really wanting him to disagree but keeping it to herself. How was he supposed to understand if no one told him anything!  
  
“How can I?” Renji demanded, heart thudding so loudly in his chest he thought it was trying to escape. “Ichimaru's a bastard! He betrayed everyone. And you _miss_ him! How'm I supposed to get it!”   
  
Kira shook his head, raking a hand through his hair and disarraying the usually carefully ordered strands. “You won't. Not the way you are.” His eyes were wild, a far shade from their normal, peaceful blue. “It's always been easy for you. Making friends. Getting stronger. Finding your place.”   
  
The blond sucked in a breath, his reiatsu lashing around his body and striking out at Renji, who held his own to him like a protective cloak. Renji was just glad that there was no zanpakutou within reach, because Kira wasn't in his right mind and he wasn't certain that this Kira wouldn't strike at him. It was thoughts like that which worried Renji the most. Kira was his _friend_. Someone he trusted to watch his back. And yet, Renji wasn't sure he really knew him at all.   
  
“I thought I would do anything to protect him,” Kira continued, body trembling with an array of conflicting emotions. “Because if he just patted me on the head, told me I had done right, nothing could ever go wrong. And now I'm all alone again. He _left_ me and I'm just useless after all.”  
  
Breathless, Kira paled, the words pulled from him but also reluctantly admitted. And only now did he realize that he probably shouldn't have said them, because he shrank into himself as Renji stared at him with a new understanding.  
  
Ichimaru was _right_ , the fucker. Renji really didn't get anything at all.   
  
He began to suspect, in the tiniest portions of his conscience, that the whole affair might not have been entirely Ichimaru's fault. Because if what Kira was saying now was what he really felt, he might have gleefully accepted whatever Ichimaru had offered him. Might have gone after it desperately, and clung to it like a lifeline. Might have even begged for it if necessary, like a puppy craving a scrap of affection.   
  
And now Renji was supposed to say something to that? He who could never find the right words and couldn't be eloquent if someone gave him lessons? He who barely understood his own stake in this whole mess and yet pushed recklessly forward anyway, diving deeper and deeper until he was way over his head?   
  
If he hadn't always been from the start.   
  
“Kira, I don't...” Renji stopped, not sure that was what he wanted to say, and tried again. “Where's this comin' from? Yer stronger than this. I _know_ you are.”   
  
It sounded weak, even to him, but for some reason, it was enough for Kira to look at him. Actually look at him and not around him or the wall behind him or the floor beneath him or the couch between them. Those unnerving eyes stared directly into his, searching Renji's face for something. He just didn't know what.   
  
“I don't have the same kind of strength as you, Abarai-kun,” Kira said, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned closer, invading Renji's personal space, surrounding Renji in his scent – something sweet like strawberries and cream. “I don't like to be alone.”   
  
“Kira--”   
  
The blond kissed him. Was kissing him. His lips pressing insistently against Renji's – if a little sloppy – tasting of sake and strawberries. His hand tangled in the front of Renji's shitagi, gripping as though he couldn't bear to let go, and his tongue mashed against Renji's lips.   
  
Too shocked to resist, Renji allowed the kiss, something inside of him wanting to grab Kira and hold him close. To push him over and reveal pale skin bit by bit, to mark it with his lips and teeth. To watch Kira come undone. To hear the cries that still haunted his sleep.   
  
To Renji's utmost horror, the thoughts in his own head reminded him all too much of Ichimaru. Did Kira think him an easy replacement? Did he think Renji would do anything he asked in the name of comfort? Renji didn't even think about it. He simply snapped, his mind echoing with words and pleasure, his heart racing in his chest.   
  
“Please,” Kira murmured against his lips, pressing closer, heat radiating from his body along with that enticing scent of fruit. “I just... I need...”   
  
Something twisted inside of Renji, something he couldn't explain. This wasn't... it wasn't right. And he couldn't explain it, he just knew it. Building in his chest, swelling in his lungs, rattling through his veins. Not this way. He didn't want it like this! Renji wanted to be seen. He, no one else! Just Renji!   
  
His body acted of his own accord and Renji's hands lifted, one violently shoving Kira away, the other slamming a fist into Kira's cheek. The blond tumbled backwards, sprawling against the couch as Renji's breath came in short, heaving bursts in his chest. He hated the look he had seen in those blue eyes. A seductive glance that promised so much, that Kira would do anything just for that feeling again and it made him sick.   
  
He was no substitute!   
  
Red flushed across Kira's cheek as he looked up at Renji and the redhead could barely contain his rage, body shaking with it. “I ain't some replacement, Kira,” Renji spat hotly, hands curling into fists at his side. “I don't want ya to see him when ya look at me!”   
  
Kira blinked, his eyes glistening for only a moment before they hardened. “A-Abarai-kun?”   
  
A mixture of shame and anger broiled hot within Renji. Anger with himself. Anger with Ichimaru. Anger that he couldn't seem to do anything right. How long? How long had he wanted Kira? When had he decided that he wanted the blond for himself?   
  
He reached out, hands grabbing Kira's face, cradling it as he forced Kira to look at him. And only him. “I want ya to want me,” he said fiercely, surprising himself with the desire that flooded his heart. “Not that prick. _Me_.”   
  
Renji leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and sealing his lips over Kira's, drowning in that sweet flavor. The swelling, pressing thunder in his chest lightened as he moved their mouths together, enjoying the feel of his fingers on Kira's cheeks, the taste of Kira's lips. He wanted more, so much more, but restrained himself for the sake of another purpose.   
  
Renji ended the kiss, running his tongue over his lips to savor the lingering feel of it. His fingers traced a soothing line, only to realize by the swelling against his thumb exactly what he had done.   
  
That was where the shame came in. “Aw, shit Kira. I didn't mean ta punch ya that hard.” At least, not hard enough to leave that sort of mark. But then, Kira had always bruised too easily.   
  
Kira stared at him for several long moments before he blinked, seeming to come to life. “No, it's...” he trailed off, sucking in several long breaths, his gaze falling to the side. “It's better that you did, Abarai-kun. I was an idiot.”   
  
“Well, yeah ya were. But it musta hurt.” Renji winced, cursing himself inwardly.   
  
Kira was really swelling up, he noticed, and he wondered if he was even capable of using some sort of low-level healing kidoh without harming the blond further. But then, it would probably be better if Kira just did it himself, having been in the fourth division once before and all that. Renji was just as likely to blow them both up.   
  
“Not as much as I probably deserve,” Kira said quietly, and his cheeks pinked in Renji's grasp, warming to the touch. “The pain... it's...” He trailed off, something in his tone not sitting well with Renji at all. It made him think of Ichimaru, that stupid sadistic smirk, the look in his half-slitted eyes.   
  
Renji absolutely froze, a cascade of emotions flooding through him, turning his insides to ice. His hands dropped to the blond's shoulders, thinner than he could ever remember them being. Kira's abrupt silence bothered him, and he could tell with just a look that he was thinking about Ichimaru and remembering all sorts of things.   
  
“Oi!” His fingers tightened and he shook Kira a little, trying to shake him out of his recollections. “What do ya mean?”   
  
“It's more real,” Kira said, accompanied by a small smile, shaky and strained, a pale shade of the grin he used to bear. He looked lost, like a kid abandoned by his parents, or a dog left behind by his master. And Renji _hated_ it.   
  
Kira shook his head, lifting a hand to rake it through his hair. “It's not confusing at all,” he added, prodding gingerly at his swelling cheek and dragging his fingers down the light bruising appearing on his jaw. “It's supposed to hurt, not get twisted up in other things.”   
  
“Hell no! Sex is supposed ta feel good!” Renji argued, refusing to think about Ichimaru, even if a part of his mind wanted to wander that route. Despite it all, the captain had made him feel good, even if he never ended up marked like Kira. “It's not supposed to hurt. At least... not without it feelin' good.”   
  
Okay, so that probably didn't make much sense, but Renji knew what he meant. He'd heard Hisagi-senpai go on and on about it in one of his more drunken tangents. He was very chatty after a few bottles of sake, and decorum tended to fly right out the window. Renji's own ears had burned after hearing some of Hisagi-senpai's tales and he'd always thought himself pretty well-experienced.   
  
Kira seemed to agree with him, at least on the surface, and Renji finally released what was probably a bruising hold, letting Kira have some space. The blond sucked in a shaking breath, looking all too small in clothes that didn't seem to fit him him well. Renji wondered what in Ichimaru Kira had ever seen. Why the blond would think he needed his ex-taichou that badly.   
  
“I thought that was what I wanted,” Kira said quietly, still unable to meet Renji's eyes. “What I needed. But maybe I was wrong.”   
  
Renji growled internally; he'd been doing that a lot tonight. “It's what he told ya you wanted.”   
  
The other vice-captain shook his head, a sad smile touching his lips. “I don't expect you'll understand, Abarai-kun.”   
  
“Renji,” he corrected, finding that intentional distance to get really fucking old. They'd known each other for too long for Kira to keep doing that.   
  
Kira blinked. “What?”   
  
“Stop with that 'Abarai' stuff. Call me Renji. I'm yer friend, ain't I?” He resisted the urge for a playful tap to Kira's shoulders, uncertain the frail-looking man in front of him could handle such a thing. He definitely wanted the old Kira back, and maybe with Ichimaru gone that was possible.   
  
Surprise brightened Kira's expression, to a shade of his former vitality. “Yes,” Kira agreed with a small, hesitant smile. “Yes, you are.”   
  
“And yer not alone, okay?” Renji had to add, because he didn't want Kira thinking otherwise. He didn't want Kira wallowing in thoughts of Ichimaru, not when he had others who believed in him. “I'm here and Hisagi-senpai's here and as soon as Hinamori wakes up, she'll be here, too. So stop thinkin' like that. Ya don't need him. Ya got us.”   
  
There was a faint rise of reiatsu as Kira pressed fingers gently to his cheek, easing the darkening bruise. “I do, don't I?”   
  
“Yeah, ya do. And I'm sure if we asked, Matsumoto-san would take us out for drinks,” Renji added, and then hesitated when he remembered Kira's kiss, and how much he had enjoyed it.   
  
Did he dare take a step? Or would he be too much like Ichimaru?   
  
Renji shook his head, arguing with himself. No, this was different. He actually cared for the blond. He only wanted to see Kira smile. Surely his reasons weren't entirely selfish.   
  
But he would never know if he didn't try, and Renji fidgeted, preparing to step out on a limb. “Y'know...”   
  
Kira looked at him, cheek a lot less swollen now, though a shadow of a bruise would remain for a few days. Sometimes, Renji didn't know his own strength.   
  
“Yes?”   
  
For the first time, uncertainty made Renji look away, tugging on his ponytail as he fought for the right words. “I wouldn't mind it really... if ya kissed me,” he admitted, only to scowl fiercely. “But only if ya meant it to be me and not, y'know, _him_.”   
  
Self-conscious, Renji didn't look up, but he could feel Kira's eyes on him. And he sensed the surprise in the blond's reiatsu. Perhaps Kira had thought Renji was disgusted by the two kisses. Renji couldn't honestly guess. He hoped that they weren't merely a result of drunkenness and desperation. A part of him eagerly wanted them to mean something much, much more.   
  
Silence filled the space between them, and Renji worried for its meaning.   
  
Until he felt the couch shift.   
  
He looked up and had only seconds to register the face approaching his before Kira kissed him again. Gently. Slowly. Reassuringly. And a part of Renji sighed in relief, even as he leaned into the kiss, enjoying it for what it was: Kira's answer.   
  
* * *


	6. Like Puzzle Pieces

Renji jogged down the halls of the nearly empty third division, trying not to let the feel of the division drag him down. It couldn't be helped, after all. Morale was low, and no words would easily lift it. Though he had to admit, the place seemed a bit cheerier. Someone had opened a window; fresh air flowed freely through the corridors and there was the distinct shine of the sun gleaming off polished floor boards.   
    
The third might be cracked but not broken; they might be bent but they were not skewed. Renji had to admire the third division's tenacity. It held better than anyone would have given them credit. Renji knew the captain commander doubted Izuru's ability to lead the third, as did many of the other captains. But none of them knew Izuru or how he operated. And they wouldn't understand until they knew Izuru as Renji did.   
    
As Renji rounded a corner, the vice-captain's office came into sight, and Renji couldn't help breaking into a grin. No doubt Izuru was in there, filling out stacks and stacks of paperwork that had no place to go because there was no captain to sign for them. No doubt he was agonizing over the scheduling of shifts, due to start back in the next month or so. No doubt he was stressing himself unnecessarily.   
    
And here was Renji, helpfully providing a distraction. He felt a bit like a good Samaritan, though the saintlike deed wasn't for Izuru's relief alone.   
    
He lifted a hand to knock, only to realize that the door wasn't shut at all. Not like it usually was. Things were indeed changing.   
    
Instead, Renji skidded to a halt, pausing just inside the doorway. His gaze fell upon the desk, indeed occupied by the vice-captain. Izuru was bent over a stack of paperwork, frowning intently. And as Renji watched, he lifted a hand to impatiently push a strand of hair out of his eyes.   
    
“You could always cut it,” Renji suggested, his voice breaking a contemplative silence.   
    
As expected, Izuru startled at the abrupt words and nearly spilled an inkwell as his head snapped upwards. “Renji-kun!” he exclaimed. “You should announce yourself.”   
    
Renji hadn't managed to get Izuru to drop the honorific, but it was a start, he supposed.   
    
Inviting himself inside, Renji grinned, jerking a thumb to the doorway now behind him. “I thought I jes did.”   
    
“More formally,” Izuru clarified with a reprimanding tone. But he set aside his brush, Renji noticed, giving the redhead his full attention. “Not that I mind, but what brings you here today?”   
    
Renji glanced around the office, still pretty stark as always, but there was a new addition. A haiku printed on pastel paper framed on the wall. Probably one of Izuru's own as he was pretty good at that sort of thing.   
    
“Didn't ya hear the bell for lunch?” Renji asked, dragging his eyes back to Izuru, not a wholly unattractive sight.   
    
The other vice-captain looked tremendously better than he did last week. The dark circles beneath his eyes had eased to mere smudges of black, and the wan, trembling look Izuru had adopted had faded in the face of his strength. He held a new wariness about him, and shadows still occasionally filled his expression, but it was progress. And that was all Renji cared about.   
    
Izuru blinked. “Oh? Did it sound? I hadn't noticed.” His lips curved upwards into a smile. “Why? Were you planning on inviting me?”   
    
There was something about that look that made Renji squirm, that nearly caused his cheeks to heat. But he fought both reactions down, wondering when just the sight of his friend smiling made his heart skip a beat.   
    
“I thought about it, yeah,” Renji replied, shifting. “Ya can take the time away from the third, right?”   
    
Blue eyes glanced down at an array of paperwork as Izuru frowned. He patted fingers over one stack before abruptly rising to his feet. “Yes, I can,” he replied, rounding the desk. “If I look at anything else that needs a signature I can't give, my head is going to crack.”   
    
Renji chuckled. “I figured. Ya looked in need of a break. What'cha hungry for?”   
    
“You're the one who invited me. I assumed you had a plan,” Izuru countered, following as Renji lead him out of the still quiet division.   
    
Renji shrugged. “Nah, not really.” He paused, giving Izuru a hopeful look from the corner of his eyes. “Though I might be in th' mood for some soba.”   
    
Rolling his eyes, Izuru shook his head. “All the way out in Rukongai? I should have known you'd say that.”   
    
“Hey! I gave ya the chance ta pick fer yourself!”   
    
Chuckling, Izuru nudged him towards the main road out of Seireitei anyway. “I know,” he replied, true amusement in his tone. “Do we have time?”   
    
Renji scratched at his chin. “We got the same hour everybody else does,” he said. “As for me, taichou ain't in the office today, and you work so long that nobody can say anythin' to ya about getting' back late, if ya do.”   
    
Izuru smiled. “All right then. Soba it is.”   
    
Lunchtime around all of Seireitei meant that the soba place was so crowded that, without a word said between them, Renji and Izuru placed orders to go. And reluctant to be jostled with the elbows of strangers frantically trying to gobble down their meals, Renji ushered Izuru out of the building and to a secluded location. It was a favorite spot of Renji's, one he had discovered unexpectedly. Even better, no one else seemed to have discovered its location.   
    
The fresh scent of running water overrode everything else, even the evident greenery, and a small alcove was hidden behind a massive tree that draped over the pooled water from a nearby waterfall. Perfect for an afternoon lunch.   
    
Renji knew that Izuru was impressed by the look in his eyes. The blond nodded in approval as he sat beneath the tree and Renji lowered himself next to Izuru, their thighs almost touching.   
    
“How did you find this?” Izuru asked, opening his food parcel and letting the smell of the soba waft into their faces.   
    
Renji shrugged, happily breaking open his own parcel and digging in. “Luck, I guess. I went wandering one day and got lost.”   
    
“It's nice,” Izuru murmured, and fell silent, concentrating on his meal.   
    
Following suit, Renji let the comfortable quiet surround them, finding a great sense of peace washing around him. Despite the fact he knew war loomed on the horizon and out there, all of Seireitei was preparing for a massive confrontation, he and Izuru seemed far removed from it. At least, for the moment.   
    
“It's good.” Renji slurped up the last of his soba, setting the bowl off to the side.   
    
“Mmm,” Izuru agreed, having already finished his meal. He now watched Renji with an interested expression. “Though I can think of something better.”   
    
Renji dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, wiping a few stray drops of juice. “Oh yeah?”   
    
There was a mischievous twinkle in blue eyes. “Yes,” Izuru agreed, and then he was there, perched in Renji's lap, his mouth pressed urgently to Renji's. One leg knocked over Renji's bowl, making a dull sloshing noise.   
    
Izuru's lips fell over Renji's, urgent and tasting of soba. Much like his own, Renji assumed.   
    
With an armful of the blond in his lap, cleaning up the spilled over bowl was last on Renji's mind. His arm curled around Izuru, fingers sliding upwards to cradle the back of Izuru's head, tangling in long blond strands.   
    
Renji had only been teasing when he suggested that Izuru cut his hair. In reality, Renji loved the length of it.   
    
A tongue pushed hungrily into Renji's mouth, tangling with his own, and a pair of hands shoved between their bodies. Fingers delved into the hem of Renji's hakama, shoving through to find bare, throbbing skin. Renji gasped as Izuru's fingers unerringly found Renji's throbbing length, massaging him to full staff.   
    
“I-Izuru!”   
    
A wicked smile curled Izuru's lips, one that instantly seduced Renji and made his cock leap eagerly in Izuru's hold. “You like?”   
    
“Hell yeah,” Renji groaned, hips rocking up into Izuru's skilled fingers. One hand settled on the blond's buttocks, squeezing and groping the rounded cheeks.   
    
Izuru chuckled and pressed his face into Renji's bared throat, flicking his tongue over Renji's bobbing Adam's apple. “You feel good,” he muttered in between laps of his tongue. “Hot and hard, throbbing...”   
    
Renji's head fell back against the tree, his eyes squeezing shut. “Kami, Izuru! You tryin' to kill me here?” he demanded with a full-bodied moan slipping past his lips. He wriggled his other hand between their bodies, snaking it through the slit in Izuru's hakama to find the blond's heated shaft.   
    
A tongue traced along jagged, dark lines. “Maybe,” Izuru teased, his words a wonderful vibration against Renji's skin, and he sighed as Renji wrapped fingers around Izuru's cock, stroking him skillfully.   
    
Izuru, aroused and wanting, was a sight to behold. Renji lamented the fact that he couldn't do anything more at the moment than this careful touching. His lunch break was far too short and this location too open. He wouldn't want anyone to see the sight that Izuru could become, his cheeks flushed and red, blue eyes dilated with desire, a hungry look on his face. An almost _predatory_ gleam.   
    
Renji licked his lips, Izuru's hot mouth tracing a path of fire over Renji's throat and collarbone. His hands working magic on Renji's seeping cock. The redhead groaned from the effort of holding back, Izuru too skilled for Renji's restraint to handle. In fact, he couldn't be bothered to try, not with the good sensations shooting through him.   
    
His fingers slid out of Izuru's hakama, both hands gripping the blond's hips tightly. With a groan, Renji shuddered, spilling all over Izuru's fingers and in the confines of his hakama, destined to make a mess. But one of Izuru's hands cupped over the head of his arousal, catching his release.   
    
Renji's breath hitched as Izuru withdrew his hands, one hand wiping against the grass while he watched Renji slyly. He brought the fingers of his other hand to his mouth, lapping up pearly drops from the tip of them. And Renji growled lustily, just knowing that Izuru had to be teasing him.   
    
“I didn't know you were such a tease,” Renji said, his fingers squeezing Izuru's hips.   
    
“There's a lot that you don't know.”   
    
“Is that so?” Renji growled, and abruptly heaved upwards, switching positions on Izuru in the blink of an eye. The blond had no chance to react before Renji had him lying on the ground, perched between his legs. Izuru grunted as he hit the ground and Renji loomed over him, hands planted to either side of his head.   
    
“Seems like I'll hafta find out then,” Renji added, and dropped his mouth, sealing it over the blond's, tasting lingering soba and something vaguely sweet behind. Izuru shifted and twisted beneath him, cock straining the limits of his hakama, one hand already creeping down to take himself in hand. Renji casually batted it away.   
    
“My turn,” he said with a cocky grin.   
    
Pale blue eyes had darkened to cerulean in the wake of overwhelming need. “My lunch break isn't so long, Renji-kun,” Izuru reminded him, arching his hips upwards, trying to encourage Renji to grind down onto him.   
    
It wasn't exactly what Renji had in mind.   
    
He pecked at Izuru's lips and sat back on his heels, contemplating the blond's hakama. Renji's palm rubbed down the length of the concealed cock in front of him, watching as Izuru sucked in a breath and rocked up into his hand. Damn, but Izuru was sexy. Too good for a ruffian like Renji.   
    
He held his breath and considered, fingers of his free hand lingering on the ties to Izuru's obi. He knew what he wanted to do, what his mind and body were telling him to. And Renji realized that this was the first time he would do it of his own choice and willingly. That he hadn't been asked, but he wanted to. Actually wanted to do it. He wanted to make Izuru feel good.   
    
The obi was untied in an instant, and Renji peeled pack Izuru's hakama carefully, leaving him mostly covered. His fingers curled around Izuru's cock, causing Izuru to arch up into his touch, and then Renji leaned over. He breathed hotly over the seeping head, a sound not unlike a whine echoing in Izuru's throat.   
    
It made Renji want to stir again. He pushed that thought away. Right now, he wanted to make Izuru feel good.   
    
His tongue slipped out, lapping over the pearly drop. The bitter taste fell on his tongue and Renji grimaced. Okay, so he _still_ didn't like the taste. But he could handle it. This was _Izuru_ , after all. Not Ichimaru. And Renji wanted to. Besides, when Izuru made those sexy sounds, how could Renji not want to do something to hear them again?   
    
He closed his lips around the spongy tip and flicked his tongue across the head, Izuru's hips jerking beneath him. Smirking around his mouthful, Renji placed one hand on a slim hip, holding it in place. A whine of frustration echoed in Izuru's throat, but he didn't protest.   
    
“R-Renji-kun,” he stammered, pleading in his eyes.   
    
Renji couldn't resist that. He lowered his lips, taking more of the blond into his mouth. His tongue stroked the throbbing shaft, his lips providing the perfect counterpoint of pressure as he slid his mouth up and down. Again and again. Mimicking the actions of his fingers.   
    
Izuru's whimper grew muffled and when Renji looked, he found that it was because Izuru had shoved his arm – and by proxy a handful of sleeve – into his mouth. He twisted, hips churning beneath Renji, and yet the redhead would not cease his actions. He wanted to watch Izuru come undone, the high spots of color dancing in his cheeks   
    
The blond was already close; Renji could taste Izuru's seeping essence on his tongue. He throbbed in Renji's mouth, a muffled sound emerging from behind black fabric. Damn, but Izuru was sexy like this, making heat trickle slowly through Renji's body.   
    
He curled his tongue around Izuru's length, felt the pulsing on his tongue, and Izuru shouted behind his sleeve. His hips arched as he spilled into Renji's mouth, bitter semen splashing over the redhead's tongue.   
    
To be expected, the taste was something Renji _still_ didn't like. But he held Izuru through the last of his tremors anyway. When Izuru's hips hit the ground in satiation, Renji casually turned his head to the side and spat quietly, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. Izuru was breathing all heavy, his face flushed, and Renji had to kiss him.   
    
He crawled up the blond's body and sought out Izuru's lips, pulling the other vice-captain into a deep kiss. Izuru was languid and soft beneath him, his hands grasping to the sides of Renji's shihakushou and holding him in place.   
    
Renji chuckled against Izuru's lips. “Good?”   
    
“Hmmm.”   
    
Renji raised a brow.   
    
“Of course,” Izuru amended with a laugh, the teasing brat. “You even have the proof of it right here,” he added, his tongue curling out and sweeping across Renji's chin before it drew back into his mouth.   
    
When he realized what it must have been, Renji reddened.   
    
Izuru laughed again, and really, it was a sound that Renji rather enjoyed. “You're blushing, Renji-kun. I never thought I'd ever see you do that.”   
    
“Shuddup,” Renji muttered, and decided to force him to by kissing him again. Izuru responded with equal interest, their tongues slipping and sliding messily together.   
    
Lethargic warmth swept through Renji and he had the thought of falling asleep. Right here in the middle of nowhere with the sun beaming down through the branches of the tree and Izuru smiling like the old Izuru beneath him.   
    
Blue eyes fluttered.   
    
“Oy,” Renji said with a nudge. “You can't sleep here, you know.”   
    
“I'm not sleeping,” Izuru answered drowsily, with his eyes definitely closed.   
    
“Liar.”   
    
“I'm not.”   
    
Despite his words to the contrary, Izuru did drift off into a light doze. Renji shook his head and shifted around, putting Izuru's clothes to rights and putting his back against the tree once more. He carefully eased the the other vice-captain's head onto his lap to serve as a makeshift pillow, and let his fingers card through the softness of blond hair. The soft and quiet of the afternoon surrounded Renji, threatening him with thoughts of a nap of his own. But if he slept, then both of them wouldn't wake in time to return to work no matter the circumstances.   
    
Lazy days like this were rare. Granted he and Izuru hadn't been... whatever they were to each other for very long, but with Aizen lingering out there somewhere, the threat of Arrancar on the horizon, and war making everyone look over their shoulder twice, peace was hard to come by. So Renji took what soft moments he could get.   
    
The minutes passed by restfully, in that manner, with Renji surprised himself with how long he could sit still and quiet. But if there was anyone who needed some time to sit and rest, it was Izuru. He still looked like he wasn't sleeping much, and Renji didn't stay over often enough to be certain. He slept fine if they were sharing a bed, but Renji had the feeling Izuru wasn't sleeping so well on his own.   
    
And it didn't help that the other Shinigami were _still_ watching him like a hawk. As though any moment he would go skipping off to join Ichimaru with their secrets grasped tightly in his hands. Like Seireitei _had_ any secrets that Aizen and his traitors didn't already know. It was utter bullshit, but Renji didn't have the standing to tell them that. So he could only watch, frustration growing, and stay by Izuru's side. It was the best he could do.   
    
Sighing inwardly, Renji carefully slid his fingers through Izuru's hair. “Oy,” he said, as not-startling as he possibly could. “Time ta wake up. Can't sleep all day.”   
    
Unfortunately, subtlety had never been Renji's strong point. Either that, or Izuru was naturally jittery. Because he woke with a jerk and a start, wide-eyed as he looked all around him. It seemed to take several seconds before he remembered where he was and why before he made a face.   
    
“Ah, hell,” Izuru muttered, wrinkling his nose in a way that was too cute for Renji's comfort. “What time is it?”   
    
“Ya only slept about twenty minutes,” he reassured the blond, knowing that Izuru was going to work himself into a frenzy if he thought he was late. “Ya ready ta go back?”   
    
Izuru rose from Renji's lap and stretched, the motion revealing the slim white of his arms and outlining his muscles. An action that made Renji's mouth water all over again, threatening to stir the desire he'd been trying to fight back. Damn, but he was becoming some type of pervert.   
    
“No, but I've got paper to push.”   
    
He had a point unfortunately. And Renji forcefully shoved out all thoughts of dragging Izuru down for round two. No, he would save that for later. Tonight even.   
    
He collected their garbage and stood, fighting back his own sigh. “Better get on the road then,” Renji said, his gaze lingering on the beauty of their current location.   
    
The return to Seireitei and their respective divisions passed more quickly than their escape, much to Renji's disappointment, though he enjoyed the easygoing silence between himself and Izuru. It was... comfortable. And Renji liked comfortable.   
    
“I enjoyed this,” Izuru murmured as they stopped at the third division first. He smiled, hand on the door-frame. “Let's do it again next week.”   
    
Renji fidgeted. “We have ta wait that long?” he said, his cherry-amber eyes focused on Izuru's cool blue.   
    
The blond flushed, the expression a mix of abashment and pleasure. “No.”   
    
“Good.” Renji grinned, and though he would have liked to leave with a parting kiss, there were too many eyes. So he simply left it at that.   
  

*            *            *            *

  
  
“Hey - I get promoted to your mattress?”  
  
The blond made no efforts to move, his body a languorous heat atop Renji's. Izuru was dressed in Renji's favorite outfit – his skin and nothing else. “You're just so ... comfortable.”  
  
The redhead snorted, but Izuru was right: and he himself wasn't heavy, he was comfortable.“Okay then, ye're now my quilt.”  
  
Izuru laughed, and Renji loved the sound of it. Every day, the gloomy man that Ichimaru had molded was vanishing and Renji found himself holding the Izuru he remembered. No, better than that. Izuru was strengthened, renewed, happier than before, and Renji reveled in that. He rolled in that realization like one would a pile of freshly fallen leaves, happy and content.   
    
“Sure,” Izuru said with a humming chuckle, the echoes of his laughter reverberating through his body with a tremble. “I must have shrunk in the wash.”  
  
“Nah,” Renji said, “you've always been just the right size.” He flicked the blanket over them both, keeping thoughts of comfort and warmth to himself. No need to get overly sappy after all, even if he did rather enjoy moments like this.   
    
Nimble fingers began tracing Renji's tattoos. And he felt a rising tide of contentment, gold like sunlight through his closed lids, threaten to submerge him ... he made no effort to escape it, and allowed the pressure of Izuru's fingers to enthrall him.   
    
Renji felt as if it were enough to ease him into sleep, but a thought lingered at the back of his mind, squirming to move to his conscious. He had been batting it around for quite a while, tossing it aside as never the right moment. But Renji also knew that if he didn't spit it out eventually, it would explode at the worst time.   
    
He thought about leading around to it in a gentle way, but Renji never had been good at conversation games. And he thought Izuru would easily squirm out of it if he did try to be subtle.   
    
“Why Ichimaru?” Renji asked, his voice slipping into the soft, barely lit silence. Only one light spilled illumination over them, but it was enough to see Izuru's expression.   
    
His breath hitched, his fingers pausing before picking up their movements once again. “What do you mean?” Izuru asked, his voice rather even for the hesitation.   
    
Renji paused, drawing in a deep breath as his hand settled on Izuru's back, fingers pushing gently against the blond's lower spine. “Why'd ya let him... ya know...” Renji trailed off, unable to bring himself to voice out.   
    
More so because he wasn't exactly sure _what_ to call it, than that he was to embarrassed to put it into words. Was it a relationship? Was it just fucking? Was it consensual? Was it not?   
    
Renji didn't know if he should ... if he _could_...  ask all those details.   
    
Or maybe the problem was that he wasn't supposed to have seen them that day or gone to Ichimaru or let himself be bent to Ichimaru's will. Maybe the problem was that Renji couldn't exactly ask what he wanted to ask because he wasn't supposed to know. At least, not really. A lot of it was easily figured out from implications, and Izuru had to realize that Renji knew some of it in part. But he didn't know that Renji knew most of it, or at least the part that Ichimaru had been willing to reveal.   
    
“Would you believe me if I said that I came to him?” Izuru asked, his voice soft, almost too soft to be heard despite the near silence.   
    
Renji blinked, startled out of his near-frantic inner monologue. “I... what?”   
    
Blue eyes refused to meet his, Izuru watching the hypnotizing motions of his fingers. “Or maybe it would be safer to say it was mutual?”   
    
Suddenly, Renji realized that Izuru more than guessed, he _knew_. Without Renji having to explain it, Izuru knew that Renji knew about him and Ichimaru. Though it had kind of been implied before and one could assume that Renji figured it out from that conversation way back when, but still... Izuru knew of Renji's awareness and had said nothing. Had not thought to ask him why or how, or what he thought about it.   
    
Renji swallowed, suddenly unable to meet Izuru's eyes himself, this conversation pulling him in with its necessity, but dragging him reluctantly along. “But why... _him_?” It took all of Renji's effort to keep the disgust from his voice.   
    
“Who else?” Izuru shrugged, but it was far from nonchalant, his shoulders too tight for him to pull it off properly. “Ichimaru's not as bad as everyone says he is. It's all a mask.”   
    
Renji wasn't even going to pretend that he understood. Instead, he made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “If you say so,” Renji said, and decided to drop the topic, the evasions settling heavy and uncertain in his belly.   
    
Izuru's reluctance to answer Renji completely made him wonder if _maybe_ Ichimaru had been right and Renji had no clue what he'd been doing. That he really had been misunderstanding.   
    
Mercifully, Izuru  also dropped the topic. Renji didn't think he was ever going to get it. And he doubted Izuru would ever be able to explain it in a way that Renji could understand. He couldn't see how someone would like a person like Ichimaru.   
    
But then, Renji's opinion might be slightly biased.   
    
Whatever. Ichimaru was gone, a traitor now, and Izuru was here in Renji's arms. All that bullshit wasn't important anymore. Or at least, Renji hoped it wasn't. He hoped that Izuru could just put the bastard behind him and never worry about Ichimaru again. Never even think about Ichimaru unless they happened to cross paths on the battlefield, and by then, Izuru would be strong enough to stare his former captain down without faltering once. And with any luck, Renji would be at his side, smirking at the traitor, proving that he had not failed.   
    
“Renji?”   
    
Strange that the simple sound of his own name, said unprompted without the honorific, could make something inside Renji flip with immense pleasure, and leave him oddly giddy. He kept his reaction inside however, lest the blond think him mad.   
    
His hand crept further up Izuru's back, contemplating switching things around so he could trace this very path with his tongue. Izuru had the sexiest back Renji had ever seen.   
    
“Yeah?”   
    
Izuru's palm flattened around Renji's upper arm, warm against his skin. “I want to become stronger.”   
    
“So do it.”   
    
Those blue eyes turned up towards him, earnest and strong. “Will you help me train?”   
    
“You know I would,” Renji answered with a wince, cursing loudly in the back of his mind.   
    
He hadn't meant to tell Izuru in this way. In fact, he'd meant to bring it up tomorrow. Now it would seem like he had been trying to hide it. Or disappear without saying a word.   
    
Izuru heard his hesitation. “But?”   
    
Renji sighed, throwing his head back against the pillow as slender fingers grabbed at his unbound hair, carding carefully through it. When Izuru had initially loosened it, a part of Renji had stiffened, always associating unbound hair with a voice rasping in his ear and a body pushing against his over and over. Guilt-laced pleasure and disgust, always a lingering disgust with himself.   
    
“I've been ordered to the Living World,” Renji explained to chase away thoughts he didn't want to recall. “Me and about three others under Hitsugaya-taichou's command.”   
    
Izuru blinked, looking more startled than angry. “What? Why?”   
    
“Yamamoto-soutaichou thinks that the Arrancar will attack there first. We're like the first line of defense.”   
    
“Hmmm.” Izuru returned his head to Renji's shoulder, his leg sliding against Renji's in a such a way that was certain to stir him back to life. “Sounds important.”   
    
Renji shrugged, trying not to let the words affect him like they wanted to. “I guess. They probably just picked me because I know Ichigo the best.” He nudged at Izuru's forehead with his nose. “But you could get Hisagi-senpai to help you. I know he's not one of the ones assigned.”   
    
“Hisagi-senpai has better things to worry about. Like running the ninth division,” Izuru answered quietly. “Don't worry, Renji-kun. I'll figure it out on my own.”   
    
For some reason, Renji couldn't quite shake a feeling of guilt. And he wasn't sure why. Izuru wasn't so weak that he couldn't grow stronger on his own. Renji had the utmost faith in him in that regard. Still, Izuru in battle was also a sight to behold, and Renji had the feeling that a determined, resolute Izuru was just as enticing.   
    
He hated to miss such a sight.   
    
Lips pressed against his collarbone, a warm and careful kiss, even as a knee moved upwards, nudging at Renji's quiescent length.   
    
Renji sucked in a careful breath. “If you're tryin' to start a fire, you'll succeed, Izuru.”   
    
Blunt nails scraped over his chest, dragging over a single exposed nipple. “Maybe I am,” Izuru all but purred, and just like that, the atmosphere abruptly switched to something a bit more lustful.   
    
As Renji grabbed a handful of Izuru and dragged their mouths together, he didn't mind the change one bit. And obviously, neither did Izuru. There were better things to concentrate on right now than impending wars, and forcing oneself to get strong. Things like the squirming blond in his arms who was already working Renji into a frenzy. After all, Renji would leave for the Living World tomorrow and he didn't know when he would get to return. Best to stock up on the happy memories while he could.   
    
*****        


	7. Drowning in Whispers

Renji was torn.   
    
He should have considered the Living World assignment to be prestigious, but in reality, a part of him wanted nothing more than to return to Soul Society. With Izuru.   
    
It wasn't that he didn't understand the soutaichou's purpose in assigning them – himself, Matsumoto-fukutaichou, Hitsugaya-taichou, Ikkaku-san, and Yumichika-san – to the Living World. In fact, Renji understood it all too well. They were facing a war unlike anything they had ever seen before. Aizen was a very real threat and Soul Society had to be prepared for the worst.   
    
It was also a good chance for Renji to grow stronger, capitalizing on Urahara-san's training, or his form of it anyway.   
    
Still, a part of him remained in Soul Society. And it might have been a bit selfish, but he missed Izuru. The occasionally-exchanged letters weren't quite enough, and he worried for Izuru as well, since tensions were still high in Soul Society. Though no one said it explicitly, Renji knew that people continued to whisper about Izuru, speculating on his possible connection to Ichimaru.   
    
Izuru was strong enough to stand up to the gossip; Renji believed. Still, he wanted to be there.   
    
That desire originated in equal parts above and below his waist.   
    
This relationship stuff was a bit new to him. He felt like some idiot newlywed or someone equally foolish and doting in the area of his heart.  And below?  No surprises. But he knew that  if he _did_ give in to the feelings above his waist and rush back, Izuru would interpret Renji's sudden reappearance in Soul Society as a vote of no-confidence in Izuru's own capability.   
    
So Renji kept his pining to himself. He silently endured being teased by Ikkaku-san and the others about it . It was bad enough when they didn't know the source of his discomfort; if they did, he could only imagine what might be said.  And shudder.   
    
Time spent in the Living World was a mixture of boredom and excitement. He freeloaded on Urahara-san's good nature, helped keep the shoten in good order, and trained with that kid Sado, who was actually pretty strong. Renji would have almost believed that Aizen was giving them some sort of leeway, until the group of Arrancar decided to pick a fight. And it galled him that it had taken some effort to defeat Ylfordt.   
    
Obviously, Renji wasn't strong enough yet.   
    
Then the Arrancar attacked again. When the dust settled, Inoue had been taken. Ichigo, to be expected, wanted to go after her immediately. Renji agreed with him, and he knew that Rukia did as well. Everyone wanted to rescue the girl. She was one of them, their companion, their _nakama_. And like the others, Renji didn't believe for one second that she had betrayed them.   
    
Therefore, he didn't understand when Soul Society decided to treat her as a traitor and abandon her to Aizen. He had wanted to protest the order that returned them to Soul Society, but Renji was on precarious ground already. He had disobeyed orders once, and only Kuchiki-taichou's leniency – and Aizen's betrayal – had saved him from punishment and possible demotion. Renji had no choice; he returned to Soul Society, remembering well the look of angered betrayal on Ichigo's face.   
    
Renji knew, without having to ask, that Ichigo had no intention of obeying Yamamoto-soutaichou's orders. After all, Ichigo wasn't under Soul Society's command. Sometimes, Renji thought that the soutaichou conveniently forgot that.   
    
And Renji? He wallowed in indecision, pinioned between duty and desire.   
  

\- - - - - -

  
    
“Renji, if you keep pacing across the floor like that, you're going to wear it down,” Izuru commented.   
    
Pausing mid-step, Renji flushed to his hairline, but still smiled at the touch of humor in the blond man's tone. “Sorry,” he apologized, drawing in a slow breath. Restlessness stirred his feet, made him want to keep pacing even if it got him nowhere. “I'm jes thinkin'.”   
    
“So I noticed.” The sound of a polishing cloth running over metal paused as Izuru looked up at him, blue eyes sympathetic. “What are you going to do?”   
    
Renji lifted his shoulders, that question something he had already asked himself time and time again. “I don't know.” A frustrated hand dragged through his hair, tugging on his ponytail. “Ichigo's not going to sit around. He ain't th' type to do that.”   
    
Wabisuke returned to his sheath, and Izuru rose from his chair. “Kurosaki-san doesn't consider himself aligned one way or the other. He only cares about his friends.”   
    
True. But Renji had always considered Ichigo to be on their side despite all that. He couldn't fathom Ichigo joining Aizen. For any reason. Ichigo's sense of justice – more his own than his loose alliance with Soul Society – pretty much made that an impossibility.   
    
Ichigo was going after Orihime. Renji didn't even have to ask to know that. And he also knew that Ichigo wouldn't ask for help. The orange-haired brat would just dive into danger without thinking about anyone else, making Rukia worry. Making all of them worry, to be honest. But Ichigo wouldn't have so much as a second thought about going into danger to rescue a friend.   
    
“What would you do?” Renji asked, turning to face his lover.   
    
Izuru had moved to the window, parting the wood blinds to peer into the late evening's orange-hued sunlight. His profile in shadow, he said calmly, “If it were me, I would do what I think is right, and not necessarily what Soul Society tells me to do.” He glanced at Renji, his smile soft and haunted. “I know it seems like I follow the rules all the time, Renji-kun, but sometimes, I do believe it's better not to.”   
    
There was a hint of something else in his words. Something that reminded Renji of their prior conversations, of the suggestion that Izuru might have gone with Ichimaru if only Ichimaru had asked. And Renji hated that simple reminder. Loathed it with every fabric of his being.   
    
“I'm not 'xactly a prime example of listenin' to my superiors either,” Renji said, drawing up beside his lover as he remembered doing his damnedest to save Rukia. Going against her brother and the orders from his very own captain. Doing it because he knew it was the best action and he couldn't let Kurosaki have all the credit anyway.   
    
“You've already made up your mind, Renji-kun,” Izuru murmured, his hand reaching out as his fingers slid up Renji's arm. “I don't know why you are still debating it.”   
    
Izuru had a point. Maybe Renji thought he needed someone to justify his decision, to prove that he was doing the right thing. Maybe he needed Izuru to tell him that it wasn't stupid and it wasn't suicide and to go against the soutaichou's orders didn't make him a traitor. Because try as he might, Renji couldn't believe that Inoue-san would betray them – betray _Ichigo_ – like that.   
    
“Yeah, I don't either,” Renji admitted, his skin prickling where Izuru had touched him so lightly. He slid an arm around the blond, pulling Izuru tight against him and luxuriating in the feel of the other body so close to his. “Seems like I'm goin' ta Hueco Mundo.”   
  

\- - - - -

  
    
_“My orders were only to ensure that you returned to Soul Society,” Kuchiki-taichou explained blandly, though his eyes couldn't quite hide the truth. “I did not receive any orders regarding what do you with you after that. Do as you wish.”  
    
“Nii-sama?” Rukia was confused, strangely enough, because Renji understood his captain's insinuations in a few seconds.   
    
His anger at being forced back to Soul Society bled out of him, replaced by a relief that flooded his reiatsu. Either way, Renji had already made his decision. He was going with Ichigo. It was a plus that Kuchiki-taichou wasn't going to stop him, because Renji didn't know if he was strong enough yet to go through his captain.   
    
Kuchiki-taichou turned away from them with a dramatic flourish as he liked to do, only to pause. “It gets cold in Hueco Mundo. See me before you leave.”   
    
And then he was gone in a flutter of white scarf, leaving Rukia and Renji to stare after him in a mix of disbelief and yeah, for Renji, a whole lot of respect. Kuchiki-taichou had really changed, not that Renji was disappointed. He thought that it made his captain stronger in some ways. And Renji had to admit he approved of the joy he sometimes caught in Rukia's eyes now.   
    
It made him feel just a bit less guilty for the mistake he had made in the past concerning her. Renji started to believe that maybe it was a good thing Rukia joined the Kuchiki.   
    
“Did he just...?”   
    
“Yeah, he did.” Renji grinned, clapping Rukia on the shoulder, a part of him ridiculously happy that he could do that now. “Seems like we got our permission.”   
    
Rukia snorted, though the admiration in her eyes belied her feelings. “I didn't need it. I was going anyway. And so were you.” The last was said as though Renji had no choice in the matter.   
    
Not that he cared, since he'd chosen to go on his own.   
    
“True. But it's nice ta have some support, yeah?” Renji's hand slid from her shoulder. “Meet ya at the gate?” He had a few things to grab before he could leave.  He had to tell  Izuru, too.   
    
“Make it quick. We still have to sneak out. I'll get whatever nii-sama wants to give us.”   
    
“You,” Renji said.  "It'd surprise the hell outta me if he had anythin' for me.”   
    
Rukia rolled her eyes._  
    
“I can guess that you're not packing for a surprise vacation at the hot springs?”   
    
That voice jolted Renji from his memories. He glanced up to find Izuru standing there, the blond's emotions carefully shielded.   
    
He hadn't expected anyone else. Renji shook his head as he stuffed a few more  items into a small pouch, important bits like a small vial of Ikkaku-san's healing ointment.   
    
“When I come back,” Renji said, the idea growing within him now that Izuru had mentioned it, “I think we all need some kinda vacation or somethin'.”   
    
Izuru stepped into the room, eyes flickering over the assortment of items Renji had gathered. “You're leaving tonight?”   
    
Renji nodded, cinching the ties shut as he pondered where he would attach the heavy pouch. On second thought, he opened it up and pulled out a few items.   
    
“Yeah. We gotta catch up to Ichigo before he gets himself into trouble without us,” Renji explained.   
    
He snorted, thinking of the mess the kid could cause on his own.  Ichigo was like a damn magnet for trouble and complication. It followed him everywhere.   
    
Izuru made a noncommittal sound of agreement in his throat, and it was then that Renji had a thought. He wondered why he hadn't considered it before.   
    
Dropping his hands, Renji looked at his lover. “Ya know, ya could come with us. We could use all the help we can get.”   
    
Something in Izuru's expression eased at the invitation, even as he shook his head. “There's no one else capable of taking control of the third. I might not be their favorite candidate, but I am all they have.”   
    
Renji winced. On one hand, Izuru had stopped blaming himself – at least outwardly – for all of Ichimaru's actions. On the other, his statement made it clear that his self-confidence hadn't entirely returned. It didn't help that the upper echelons continued to treat Izuru as though he were some sort of traitor only waiting to betray them all.   
    
The blond continued, “Besides, the smaller the group, the better chance you have of staying outside Aizen and Ichimaru's detection.”   
    
Renji realized that Izuru had just mentioned Ichimaru's name without a single ounce of hesitation or stumble. That was a change, and a welcome one: Renji could count on the fingers of one hand the times Izuru had mentioned any of the traitors voluntarily. That he could do so now greatly reassured Renji.   
    
He grinned at his lover, although the expression lacked his usual enthusiasm. “Yeah, yer probably right.” Izuru had always been a better tactician than Renji was himself. Renji was more the sort to jump into battle and hack away, relying on sheer force with the occasional brilliant idea thrown in for good measure. Izuru, while lacking none of Renji's courage, was a more cerebral combatant.   
    
Renji glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. “Shit, I gotta meet Rukia before she leaves without me.”   
    
“If I know Kuchiki-san, she definitely will,” Izuru teased. There was a touch of worry in his tone, but he didn't voice it and Renji knew he never would.   
    
They were both Shinigami, both warriors. They were supposed to fight and risk their lives. It was part and parcel of their positions. And they had faith in one another's abilities. So worry was kept to one's own self.   
    
Renji threw his bag over his shoulder and crossed the floor, stopping at Izuru's side. He hesitated when he caught the briefly unguarded look in Izuru's blue eyes. This was the kind of moment when people said emotional things, admitted feelings when they hadn't before, and had all kinds of revelations. Renji knew that unspoken words tiptoed through his heart.  
    
“Izuru--”   
  
Before he could get anything out, Izuru kissed him, and Renji had to admit that he liked that option better. He pulled Izuru tight against him, memorizing the feel of the blond in his arms, as he deepened the kiss. Izuru tasted of citrus and tea, crisp and soothing, and his kiss was aggressive, tongue sliding into Renji's mouth and seeking to dominate. It made something inside Renji heat with want, especially as Izuru's fingers gripped his shitagi tightly, holding him in place.   
    
The kiss stretched on, until Renji was certain he wouldn't be able to breathe without remembering the taste of Izuru. Not necessarily a bad thing. And when it ended, Renji had the brief and passing thought of wanting to stay, just to see where else he could take it. But the pull of loyalty proved too strong and Renji reluctantly pulled away.   
    
“I'd tell you no heroics, but I know better than that,” Izuru commented with a light smile that didn't match the worry in his eyes. “So all I'll say is that you better wreak some havoc for me while you're there.”   
    
Renji looked at him and chuckled. That was the Izuru he knew. “I'll rip down a tower just for you,” he cooed teasingly, laughing when Izuru rolled his eyes and released him.   
    
“Get going,” the blond tossed over his shoulder, already striding the hallway.   
    
No tearful goodbyes for them. Renji liked it better that way. He grinned and did as his lover commanded, slipping into the night with his reiatsu tightly clamped within him. He wasn't as good as someone like Kyouraku-taichou, but he could sneak around when needed. And Renji used the thieving skills he had learned long ago in Rukongai to his advantage, slipping through the shadows to his rendezvous with Rukia.   
    
To his surprise, Kuchiki-taichou was there when Renji arrived, obviously waiting with Rukia. “Abarai-fukutaichou, you're late,” Renji's taichou chastised as Rukia grinned at Renji, probably guessing what had delayed him.   
    
Renji winced. “Ah, sorry, taichou.”   
    
“What? I don't get an apology?” Rukia demanded impatiently, placing her hands on her hips.   
    
Renji grinned. “I've known you too long for that,” he said, and was even more surprised when Kuchiki-taichou suddenly thrust a bundle of cloth in his direction. It was the same color and design as Rukia's, and the look in his captain's eyes demanded that Renji ask no questions and just be grateful for the unexpected gift.   
    
“Thanks, taichou,” Renji said.   
    
“You have nothing to thank me for, Abarai-fukutaichou,” Kuchiki-taichou said gruffly.   
    
Renji had learned not to take such cold words personally. That was just Kuchiki-taichou's way.   
    
Renji watched as Kuchiki-taichou turned towards Rukia, briefly laying his hand on her shoulder and squeezing. Honestly, that was the most affection Renji had _ever_ seen his captain give his sister. Things really _had_ changed. Even if Aizen's betrayal had sucked in so many ways, it had also managed to bring about the healing of some things broken.   
    
“I will be expecting your return,” Kuchiki-taichou said, dropping his hand and turning to walk away, that damn scarf a flutter of fabric behind him.   
    
Admittedly, the look on Renji's face had to have been a gawk. Because he watched Kuchiki-taichou leave with utter disbelief etched into his expression. And the look on Rukia's face was priceless – beaming with pride and love both, her shoulders emboldened with strength.   
    
Watching them, Renji felt something start to shift in himself, though he couldn't explain it. And for the first time, he began to believe supporting Rukia in her choice to be adopted into the Kuchiki was not a serious mistake.   
    
He no longer had to look at the relationship between himself and Rukia as something damaged. Where once it had been strained, barely visited, only a memory that sought to fade in the back of Renji's mind... now it was returning to life. Like a flower in spring after the first rainfall, sprouting new leaves, and growing strong this time around. It was bittersweet in some ways, however, because where Renji had once believed he loved Rukia and would never love another, he looked at her now and saw only his best friend.   
    
She was dear to him, a precious presence in his life. But she wasn't _the one_. She wasn't the one person who mattered most to him. She no longer owned his heart. It was strange how things such as that could change without Renji realizing it was in the process of being altered. Without even noticing.   
    
“Come on, Renji, let's go,” Rukia said, startling Renji from his revelations. A light smile touched her lips. “Who knows what kind of trouble that idiot will get into without us.”   
    
How funny that it should be the same thing Renji had just told Izuru not but twenty minutes earlier. Renji chuckled. “Yeah, he's hopeless without us.”   
  

\- - - - -

  
    
Renji cursed under his breath. He was absolutely lost. Of course, he would have had to know where he was in the first place to actually consider himself lost. Or even where he was going. Wandering around aimlessly in Las Noches wasn't accomplishing anything, and all the while, he felt the constraints of time closing around him.   
    
Scowling, Renji broke into a light jog, bothered by the stark atmosphere of the palace. Everything was white. Why was everything white? And it was completely silent, lacking in all evidence of life. Which made sense considering its location, but still, it was eerie. The lack of noise disturbed Renji. As did the walls, which practically vibrated with negative reiatsu.   
    
Growling, Renji skidded to a stop, finding himself in the middle of a four-way intersection. Which way was he supposed to go? They all looked the same!   
    
His hands curled into fists at his side as he considered, his senses of little help here. Reiatsu flooded the walls and floors around him, pulsing through the air. The feel of Hollow drowned out all else.   
    
“Ya look a little lost, Renji-kun. Need some directions?”   
    
The voice slithered through the air, sliding into Renji's ears with all kinds of familiarity. For a minute there, he was taken back to several weeks prior. To a body rising in the sky, surrounded by a golden halo. To a smirk and words of betrayal. To terrible pain ripping through his body as he failed to save Rukia.   
    
And then even further still. To the feel of Renji's knees on a wooden floor. To the warm heat pressed against his back and a tongue mouthing his throat. Teeth grazing and purred words of seduction. His hair pulled and faint imprints of fingers lingering on his skin.   
    
Renji whirled, heart stuttering at the sight of Ichimaru Gin lounging behind him, appearing out of thin air. The traitor leaned against the wall, arms folded into the voluminous sleeves of his clothes – all white, a complete contrast to the black of the Shinigami. That ever-present smile was the only thing completely familiar about him, and try as he might, Renji couldn't spot Shinsou. That didn't mean he could be any less wary.   
    
“Ichimaru!”   
    
“Were ya expectin' someone else?” Ichimaru said in that half-mocking tone that Renji had come to despise during the duration of their _agreement_.   
    
Renji's hand fell to Zabimaru's hilt, though he didn't draw his zanpakutou. He didn't have to stretch his senses to know that Ichimaru was a lot stronger than him. Besides, he had the feeling somehow that Ichimaru wasn't here to attack him. That he was here for something else.   
    
He watched Ichimaru warily, finding words difficult, mostly because he wasn't sure _what_ to say at this point. That they were now obvious enemies was a moot point, what with the past that lay between them. The past and the ghost of Izuru's presence.   
    
Ichimaru cocked his head to the side. “So tell me, Renji-kun, are ya doin' like I asked? Are ya watchin' over Izuru fer me?”   
    
“I didn't need you to tell me to do that,” Renji growled, his back straight, and stiffening with tension. Emotions crested inside of him; it felt weird to see Ichimaru again, unsettling.  Weirder than it should have. Weirder than them just being former allies. “I'm not givin' him back now that you've abandoned him.”   
    
Amusement stretched Ichimaru's grin out further, and one eyebrow arched. “Things 'ave changed in my absence, have they?” Ichimaru straightened, moving away from the wall with that fluid strength of his Renji's body remembered far too well.   
    
Renji tensed, but for the most part, his former lover's movements remained unthreatening. “Well, don' worry. He's not mine to take.”   
    
“He never was,” Renji growled, feeling as if the air was thick around them, like trying to breathe through water. And it had nothing to do with the difference in their reiatsu.   
    
Ichimaru chuckled, the sound slithering through the hall. “So feisty, Renji-kun. That's why yer such a good choice fer him.”   
    
“Just so ya know, he's fine without ya,” Renji said, one sandal sliding backwards as though to retreat, though he didn't actually step. He felt jealous for reasons he couldn't fully explain. Not even to himself. “He doesn't need ya anymore.”   
    
And obviously, he was feeling a mite possessive as well.   
    
“Is that so?” Ichimaru drew nearer, his footsteps silent against the white floor. And Renji, for his part, couldn't seem to move.   
    
He didn't know why. He just stood there as Ichimaru got closer. And the feel of the former captain's reiatsu crawled over Renji, prickling at his skin. It was a tide of power that paralyzed him from head to toe. But it wasn't the reason Renji couldn't move, at least not the whole reason.   
    
“I told ya, didn't I?” Ichimaru continued. “That he's stronger than ya think.”   
    
Refusing to be cowed by Ichimaru, Renji squared his shoulders. He didn't want or need to be thrust into the past, where he let Ichimaru do as he pleased for Izuru's sake. Things were different now; _Renji_ was different now. And Ichimaru didn't intimidate him quite the same anymore.   
    
“Ya love 'im?”   
    
The question, sudden and quite personal, threw off the tide of indignation that Renji had been building. “I...” He blinked. “What the hell? That's my business, not yours!”   
    
Ichimaru chuckled, and when he lifted a hand, Renji didn't avoid the fingers that gripped his chin. Cold fingers that echoed the chill that permeated all of Hueco Mundo and Las Noches by proxy.   
    
“That's all the answer I need, Renji-kun,” Ichimaru practically purred, and Renji was treated to the sight of Ichimaru's irises as he opened his eyes by a fraction. “It seems I really did leave Izuru-kun in good hands. I knew it right from th' start.”   
    
His fingers stroked the side of Renji's face, and strangely, Renji didn't shudder. Not as he would have before. An odd feeling of – pity, was it? – rose strongly inside of him as he watched Ichimaru watch him. The smile on the traitor's face seemed less mocking and more... thoughtful? Regretful? As though he'd lost something he couldn't get back. It was a soft reflection of the last expression Ichimaru had given Renji when last they spoke, weeks ago in the holding cell before Ichimaru revealed himself to be a traitor.   
    
“Ya tryin' to tell me ya had some sort of plan?” Renji asked, one hand gripping tightly to Zabimaru's hilt. Yet, he had no urge to attack. Why? Did he want to understand that badly? “That this is the way ya wanted things?”   
    
“Now Renji-kun, I can't go givin' away all my secrets, can I?” Ichimaru tipped his head to the side, silvery strands of hair sliding over his forehead. “Ya jes keep doin' what yer doin' and everythin' will turn out jes fine.”   
    
More confused than before, Renji's brow wrinkled. There was a subtle rise of reiatsu in the air, encloaking but not debilitating. It felt like a battle. “What the hell are ya--”   
    
Blackness swept through his vision, and Renji barely remembered falling, much less hitting the ground. He last felt Ichimaru's reiatsu sweeping over him, more power than Renji thought possible for a single man to contain.   
    
When Renji woke, an undetermined time later, it was to Dondochakka leaning over him worriedly. Either Ichimaru had knocked him out with a pretty potent kidoh, or the force of his reiatsu was just that powerful. Either way, it was damn embarrassing.   
    
“You're awake!” the Hollow declared with a fit of glee, clapping his hands together loudly. “I was pretty worried there for a minute, doncha know?”   
    
Renji groaned and sat up, one hand cradling his forehead where it felt he'd just spent the entire night binge-drinking. His skull pulsed and throbbed, mouth parched like the desert. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. Surely not too long since Dondochakka had caught up with him somehow.   
    
Ichimaru hadn't attacked him. Hadn't injured him at all. Had he just stopped by to ask Renji about Izuru without the possibility of battle interfering? Was that really the purpose behind the visit?   
    
Dondochakka reached down, hauling Renji to his feet without being asked. “We got to hurry!” he urged. “Nel-sama might be in danger, doncha know!”   
    
“Yeah, yeah,” Renji muttered, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs from his unwanted nap. He still felt a little wobbly, but he assumed that would pass with time. He had things to do. He couldn't waste minutes sitting here recovering.   
    
Besides, it was no use trying to understand Ichimaru anyway. The traitor did what he wanted to, always had. Renji had better things to concentrate on right now, bigger worries.   
    
He had no effort to spare for Ichimaru, not anymore.   
  

* * *


	8. Just Another Stair

In the end, Renji wasn't there. How was he to know that while he was rescuing Inoue in Hueco Mundo, Aizen had larger plans to attack the Living World and Seireitei? He supposed that they should have seen it coming. And that maybe it was why the captain-commander had denied their request to rescue Inoue. Maybe Yamamoto-soutaichou had seen the ploy for what it was – a distraction. Either way, Renji wasn't there.   
  
He had been too busy getting stomped into the ground by that freak Szayel and then later, the even larger freak Yammy. And it galled him that every time, he had to be saved by someone else. He wasn't strong enough, not for anything. That thought burned, more than he was willing to admit aloud to anyone.   
  
Renji hadn't seen what happened in Seireitei. He hadn't been there to witness the end of the war and how brutal it had been. How the Shinigami had barely won and only then by a streak of luck. He'd only heard long afterwards, lying in a bed in the fourth division as Unohana-taichou and her division of ragged Shinigami stitched him and half their forces back together.   
  
Aizen was dead, that much everyone knew for certain. How he died and who struck the final blow, well, no one could be sure. From what Renji heard, it was a pure melee, a madness of zanpakutou and kidoh thrown through the air at a series of targets invoked by Aizen's zanpakutou. Renji supposed it didn't matter who defeated Aizen in the end, so long as the traitorous bastard was dead.   
  
Besides, it wasn't Aizen's fate that concerned Renji the most. It was Ichimaru's. When no one was looking and all eyes had been focused on Aizen, it had been Izuru and one of the Vizard who had defeated Ichimaru.   
  
Izuru had faced his former captain and emerged victorious. That fact gave Renji a spark of pride and relief. He had always known that Izuru had it within him, but to have the obvious proof made all the difference. And maybe it hadn't been the most honorable of strikes, but in the end, did that matter? Ichimaru had been defeated and Izuru had proven himself to be strong. Much stronger than anyone gave him credit.   
  
And now Ichimaru had new quarters in Seireitei's prisons, courtesy of the new soutaichou. He was a defeated man, stripped of his powers, his allies, of anything remotely sympathetic. Renji didn't know why such a thought disturbed him, so he always chased it away by reminding himself that the war was over.   
  
The moment he was released from the fourth division, Renji had hurried home to spend the rest of his required medical leave in the familiarity of his own quarters. Even better, he knew that Izuru was waiting on him. The blond hadn't been able to visit Renji because the fourth division was so packed from injuries suffered during the war, but he'd been able to pass Renji a message.   
  
It was the sort of note that made the messenger blush and Renji grin from ear to ear. After that, he was antsy-ready to leave the fourth division, and Unohana-taichou had all but kicked him out in exasperation. Renji was mostly healed anyway. Orihime-san was very good at what she did. There wasn't even a scar.   
  
“Bed rest for a week, Abarai-fukutaichou,” Unohana-taichou warned him with that pleasant voice of hers that pretty much commanded he obey or face the really scary needles. And Renji, who'd had tattoos plastered over every inch of his body, quailed in the face of _Unohana-taichou's_ needles. He _obeyed_.  
  
The redhead nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Bed rest for a week.”   
  
He figured, if Zaraki-taichou could be mildly frightened of this gentle woman than Renji had every right to be. Even if said captain would never admit the fear aloud.   


\- - - - -

  
  
Home was a rather wonderful place to be, even if it was little more than a large single room divided into smaller areas by artfully placed byobu. It was even more wonderful due to the fact that something good was brewing in Renji's “kitchen” and every time he looked up, he could see Izuru's silhouette at the counter, hard at work. The blond's back was to him, but as he leaned forward to cut something, the strands of his hair swung forward, baring the graceful curve of his neck.  
  
Renji was again reminded that he hadn't seen his lover since leaving for Hueco Mundo. And before that, he'd been on a mission in the Living World. Nor had Renji been there when Izuru had helped to take down Ichimaru. He had a lot to catch up on. Except that he couldn't seem to find a chance to because Izuru kept bustling around like he had nothing better to do than dust random crap, cook plates and plates of food that Renji wouldn't be able to eat today much less the rest of the week, and generally ignore Renji's presence.   
  
“Izuru,” he called out, growing just a bit frustrated. “Ya can leave tha for later, yanno. I'm not that hungry right now.”   
  
The blond didn't even look at him. “You're hopeless in the kitchen, Renji-kun.”   
  
Granted, but it really wasn't an explanation of anything. He seemed to be completely missing the fact that Renji would prefer Izuru in the room with him rather than on the other side of a screen.   
  
He knocked his head back against a pillow and contemplated getting up. Izuru, however, chose that moment to set something aside and head back into the main part of the room, something in hand. He bustled past Renji as though the redhead weren't even there, just as he'd been doing for the past twenty minutes or so.   
  
“Izuru?”   
  
Renji was ignored, and he was beginning to think that something was up. This was the first time he'd seen the blond since Aizen had been defeated. One would think that it should be a celebration of a sort. Or that they should be greeting one another as lovers did. Was an embrace too much to ask for?   
  
“Oi!”   
  
“You've been gone a while,” Izuru muttered. “This place really needs airing out.”   
  
The redhead twitched. Izuru moved past him again and that was really the last straw. Renji lost his patience.   
  
“Izuru,” he said, snagging the blond's arm and forcing him to stop the busy, insensate puttering. “What's up with you? Yer actin' weird.”   
  
“Am I?” Izuru returned, pausing to sweep his gaze over Renji.   
  
“Uh... yeah.” Renji tugged on the captured arm, pulling Izuru into a sprawl across his lap and over the blankets. This was where he wanted Izuru to be anyway, not running around cleaning his quarters like some kinda maid. “Yer about as nervous as I was the first time I saw Kuchiki-taichou.”   
  
Izuru eased out of Renji's hold, and that action was enough to set off loud, jangling, warning bells in Renji's head. “I'm not nervous.”   
  
Cherry-amber eyes narrowed. “Maybe not that, but somethin's definitely up.” Renji peered at Izuru, but the blond's profile was carved from stone. It revealed nothing. “Are ya angry?”   
  
Izuru looked at him, actually looked right at him, and Renji quailed under the force of his stare, brimming with something beneath the surface. Those were not the eyes of the friendly, gentle Izuru that Renji knew well. That was the fighter Izuru, the one that could defeat an Arrancar without blinking. The one that Ichimaru raised so well. The embodiment of his division.   
  
“Do I look angry?” Izuru demanded in a clipped tone.   
  
Renji shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to admit aloud just how intimidated he was. “Well... yeah. Now ya do.” A low feeling of dread settled in his belly.   
  
_Ichimaru's alive_ , he reminded himself with a growing feeling of unease. _Who knows what that bastard told Izuru. Or what secrets he's been spilling._  
  
Reiatsu danced in the air, lightly but obviously present, a true sign of Izuru's agitation. “Then tell me, Abarai-san, what exactly the arrangement between you and Ichimaru was,” Izuru all but hissed.   
  
Renji went absolutely still, his memories taking him back to the past, to Ichimaru purring in his ear, and Ichimaru's fingers on his hips, and the strange mix of pain and pleasure that even now he couldn't seem to forget. And Renji's fingers curled at his sides, dropping from where he had intended to pull Izuru back towards him.   
  
“Izuru--”   
  
“Were you doing it for my sake?” the blond continued, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward, boxing Renji in with his arms and his impressive reiatsu. His tone was low and dangerous, his question one Renji wasn't sure he wanted to answer. “Am I that pathetic you need to _protect_ me?”   
  
“It wasn't like that!” Renji blurted, barely keeping from stammering. This was wrong. All wrong. He didn't want Izuru to think that. But he was already losing ground without even taking a step.   
  
He felt trapped, a rabbit caught in a stare as his protest only seemed to incense Izuru further. “Wasn't it?” Izuru returned sharply, his reiatsu lashing at Renji like a physical attack. He flinched. “You think I'm some damsel in distress that needs your protection? The both of you deciding what I needed behind my back! Like a prize in a game!”   
  
The redhead squared his jaw, refusing to be intimidated, even if Izuru was pretty fucking scary right now. This was the part of Izuru he didn't know as well. The ungentle and grave warrior that the third division had created.   
  
“Ya know better than to think I'm like that, Izuru. I never once thought you were pathetic. Or weak.”   
  
_No, you just wanted to save him_ , Renji's mind reminded him in a smug tone. _Didn't you? You just wanted to be someone's hero. And now look where you are._  
  
“And yet, you took it upon yourself to make some sort of... of trade with Ichimaru,” Izuru spat, his fingers curling against the wood with a defining scrape. “For what? My chastity? What do I look like?”   
  
Renji wasn't sure he wanted to answer that one either. It sounded like a trap. He wasn't even sure he knew _how_ to answer it, but luckily, Izuru trudged on without waiting for him to form one. He snarled like a bloodthirsty beast, his reaitsu a fierce lash that Renji didn't dare protect himself from. Guilt made for a leaden weight in his belly.   
  
_You're right. Dammit, but you're right and what can I say in the face of that? What was I supposed to do? Just watch as you fell apart? What kind of friend do you think I am?_  
  
But that was only what he wanted to say.   
  
“Good little Izuru. Weak little Izuru. Pat him on the head, it'll be all right,” Izuru snarled, and he snorted, suddenly not there anymore as he pushed away from Renji and rose to his feet all in the same, angered motion. “Well, fuck you, Abarai. I don't need that kind of pity.”   
  
Renji scrambled to his feet, the action pulling sharply against the wound in his side, still a bit sore at times. “Izuru...” he tried, reaching, but the blond twisted away from him with a glare fierce enough to rival that of a very irate Kuchiki Byakuya.   
  
It cut like the sharp edge of a zanpakutou and Renji flinched, feeling it like a physical blow.   
  
“Don't,” Izuru hissed angrily, eyes flashing. “I am a _man_ , in case you haven't noticed, Abarai. And even I have my pride. I've had enough.”   
  
Arm cradling his aching side, Renji could only watch as Izuru's reiatsu swelled one more time and then he was gone, making Renji's walls rattle. He left behind a guilt so enclosing that it tried to swallow Renji in one big gulp. He couldn't even go after the blond because... what would be the point? What would Renji say?   
  
And as always, words had failed him.   


\- - - - -

  
  
There wasn't enough sake in the world, Renji mourned internally, shaking the empty jug and contemplating if his pockets held enough for another. The liquor couldn't wash away the guilt or the disappointment. And no matter how much he drank, it couldn't stop him from being pissed at himself either. He had no one to blame but himself. Sure Ichimaru held some of the blame, but from what Renji could tell, the bastard didn't feel the least bit guilty so it would do Renji no good to blame him.   
  
“Last I remember, you were in the fourth division with a hole in your side. Should you be sucking down sake like there's no tomorrow?”   
  
Renji looked up and immediately wished he hadn't because his skull spiked with pain and his vision was just this side of blurry. “Hisagi-senpai?” he said, thinking that the black-headed blur just above him was probably the vice-captain of the ninth.   
  
“Got it in one.” The blur above him might have grinned. “Everyone else is celebrating. Why are you the only one who looks like we hadn't won the war?”   
  
He wasn't kidding. Everywhere Renji looked, people were celebrating. It was madness. Aizen had been defeated days ago, but the revelers hadn't stopped yet. As if they had completely forgotten all the suffering it had taken to get to this point. Renji half-wondered how that orange-haired brat was faring as everybody's hero. Probably suffocating under all the attention knowing him.   
  
Renji shook his bottle pointedly, the last few drops barely making a sound. “It's empty.”   
  
A chair scraped loudly across the floor as Hisagi-senpai invited himself down for a seat. “I don't really think that's the reason, though it is a good one. Did you and Kira fight or something?”   
  
Renji blinked. “You...”   
  
“That kind of thing is hard to hide from everyone, Abarai,” Hisagi-senpai said, his voice thick with amusement. He lifted a hand, trying to signal someone for more liquor as Renji was quite out. “Especially when the both of you go missing at the same time. Don't worry though. Iba and Madarame haven't gotten it yet.”   
  
“Doubt they will,” Renji agreed with a snort, looking mournfully into his empty bowl.   
  
He never would have guessed, all those months ago, that it would come to this. It had been about helping Izuru, and now, somewhere along the way, _emotions_ had gotten involved. And it felt like someone had torn out his heart, ground it under several pairs of geta, and spiked it with the second division's ninja darts.   
  
Worst part was that Renji had no one to be angry with but himself. So he couldn't lash out at anyone. He could only sit and stew in his own misery until he felt sober enough to crawl out of it and think about what to do next.   
  
“Unless they catch you two in the act,” Hisagi-senpai added with a chuckle, rapping his knuckles on the uneven tabletop. Hell, everything was uneven in this joint. “So... what has you brooding here in the dark corner?”   
  
Renji sighed. “Long story,” he said, relieved when a passing server dropped off another sake jug and held out her hand expectantly for money. Before Renji could even dig into his pockets, Hisagi-senpai was handing it over and waving her away.   
  
“Needless to say,” Hisagi-senpai said, uncorking the jug with a loud pop, “it's your fault.”   
  
Renji glared from the corner of his eyes. “If ya must know, then yeah, it was my fault.” He looked into his bowl, swirling the sake around and around. “I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted.” He could see his reflection in the liquid and yeah, Renji could see where he looked like shit. No wonder Hisagi-senpai had stopped to talk to him.   
  
“So you pissed him off. Big deal. Just apologize. Kira's pretty reasonable.” Hisagi-senpai poured his own drink, the sake slipping smoothly into the bowl.   
  
Dragging a hand through his hair, Renji settled his chin on his palm. “It's not that simple. Though I guess I shoulda seen it comin'.”   
  
Hisagi-senpai blinked, his dark eyes confused. “I'm not even going to pretend I have a clue what's going on. Though I can guess it has something to do with Ichimaru.”   
  
“Doesn't everything?” Renji retorted bitterly, knocking his knuckles against the tabletop. “That damn bastard is still causing problems, despite bein' locked up and defeated.” He paused and looked at the dark-haired man, his vision clearing just a little. “Did you know about them, Hisagi-senpai?”   
  
He shifted uneasily. “I had suspicions, but I didn't have any proof. I didn't know enough to even consider doing something.” The other vice-captain tilted his head. “And it wasn't exactly something I could just come out and ask.”   
  
“Yeah, I know.” Renji sat back, tugging on the end of his braid. “And I still don't really get it. They're both so damn secretive. And Ichimaru just kept sayin' I was misunderstandin' only he wouldn't ever say how.”   
  
“And now Kira's mad because...?”   
  
“I offended his pride,” Renji answered with a heavy sigh. Or at least, that was the conclusion he had gathered during a long contemplation before deciding that the bar was the best place for drowning his guilt. “He didn't need or want my help. And I stuck my nose in where it wasn't wanted. Behind his back.”   
  
Hisagi-senpai drank heavily of the sake before pouring more into his bowl. “That doesn't seem so bad.”   
  
He had a point. “Yeah, it's not but... it's Izuru we're talking about right?” Renji said, gesturing vaguely. “He's got it harder than the rest of us when it comes to what people think of him.”   
  
“Ah...” Hisagi-senpai nodded in understanding. “But you know... I don't think that's it completely either.” He thumbed his chin.   
  
Renji looked at him.   
  
The other vice-captain sat back in his seat. “Kira knows you, so his anger about that will pass. He'll know that you didn't mean it to offend him or imply anything.” Hisagi-senpai smirked. “He also knows how lacking you are in the tact department.”   
  
The redhead bristled indignantly. “Hey!”   
  
But Hisagi-senpai continued without waiting for him, “The root of the problem here is that _you don't know_ what was really going on between him and Ichimaru. For all you know, you could be insulting a relationship that wasn't as terrible as you think it was, and that is probably what Kira's pissed about.”   
  
_Would you believe me if I said I came to him first?_  
  
He's not as terrible as everyone thinks he is.   
  
Renji nodded slowly, his alcohol-befuddled mind trying to wrap itself around that concept. “You really think...?”   
  
“I can't guess,” Hisagi-senpai said, making a face Renji couldn't even begin to interpret before he hid it behind a gulp of sake. “Ichimaru is... well, you know. He's always had his own agenda and I'm better off not trying to figure him out.” The bowl settled on the table with a defining thud. “That's your problem, not mine.”   
  
Renji slumped with an audible sigh, pushing away the jug with the tip of his finger. “I just wanted...”   
  
“To save him, right?”   
  
Renji blinked.   
  
Hisagi-senpai scratched at his chin again. “You know, Abarai, you've got a hero complex half the size of Soul Society. Let me ask you something.”   
  
Wary, Renji tipped his head. “What?”   
  
“Why did you train yourself so hard?”   
  
Okay, so that wasn't the question he was expecting. It temporarily threw him for a loop. “To get stronger,” Renji answered slowly. “Why else?”   
  
Hisagi-senpai made a sound of agreement. “To defeat Kuchiki-taichou right?”   
  
“Yeah...”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Because...”   
  
And here, Renji hesitated.   
  
Why?   
  
Because Kuchiki Byakuya had taken the one thing that meant anything to Renji at the time. He'd taken Rukia. And after that, she wouldn't even look at Renji until he was strong enough to take her back. But more than that, Renji couldn't even tell her no like he wanted because what Kuchiki Byakuya had to give was more than he had. He couldn't say no and be that weak, not with nothing to offer her.   
  
“Because...”   
  
“Because of Kuchiki Rukia, right?” Hisagi-senpai prodded, almost gleefully Renji might add. As though he'd stumbled on some great secret or understanding that no one else had figured out yet.   
  
Well, yeah. It started out being because of Rukia, and then slowly, it changed without Renji knowing why. Rukia was happy now and obviously she didn't need him. And Renji had nothing to drive him towards that goal anymore. Was Kuchiki-taichou still his goal? In some ways, yes. In others... no, not anymore.   
  
Hisagi-senpai rose to his feet. “Why don't you try being strong for yourself, ne, Abarai? It might work out better in the end.”   
  
Renji looked at him, a bit befuddled. “Izuru didn't need me to save him.”   
  
“No, he didn't,” the other man said with a smile. “But you did anyway.”   
  
Yeah, because that made a lot of sense. And in reality, it somehow did. At least, to Renji.   
  
He shook his head. “No... maybe he's the one that saved me.”   
  
“Maybe he did. So go apologize. I'd hate to see Kira get any gloomier than he already is, and broody doesn't suit you either,” Hisagi-senpai said, clapping his hand companionably on Renji's shoulder.   
  
The redhead nodded, fiddling with a sake bowl that had lost his interest. “Thanks, Hisagi-senpai.”   
  
The vice-captain of the ninth scratched his nose, looking away. “Just don't tell anyone. They might think I'm soft or something,” he muttered, and throwing a hand over his shoulder, Hisagi-senpai slipped back into the boisterous crowd.   
  
Renji grumbled and rapped his knuckles against the table top, examining the grain of the wood. There was nothing left to do but apologize. Try to understand. Maybe figure this thing out completely.   
  
He hoped Kira would listen to him.   


* * * *


	9. Unbreakable

It was early, or late, Renji wasn't sure which. And it was hard to tell, as drunk as he was, though it was burning off pretty quickly.   
  
In the chill and dark of the evening, he stumbled home, senpai's words washing over and through him.   
  
Even taking into account what Hisagi had said to him, Renji didn't think a simple apology to Izuru would work. Renji wasn't sure _how_ to make this right.   
  
He couldn't even claim that things had started simply. For Renji, it had all been tangled from that first moment in time when he saw Izuru and Ichimaru together. That was the first tentacle around his ankle. Now, he was fully in the grip of something he had never felt before. He hadn't set out to fall for Izuru. It had just happened, and now he was in deep, sucked under by those awkward emotions, and unable to let go.  
  
And it wasn't in Renji's nature to surrender.  
  
It would, however, be better to seek out Izuru tomorrow when Renji was sober ... and less moody. He needed to absorb his varied epiphanies before begging Izuru's forgiveness.   
  
Renji wasn't sure if he could – or even _would_ – apologize. He didn't feel guilty for what he had done, only remorse for the fact that it had obviously upset Izuru.   
  
And as for interfering in the affair between Izuru and Ichimaru, well, that _was_ his fault for jumping into a situation blind, but the nature of their relationship wasn't exactly something he could have come out and _asked_ Izuru to clarify either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Renji had done the best he could, given what he knew at the time.  
  
Renji groaned. His thoughts were going in circles. Hopeless. He would get nowhere at this rate. And his head ached.   
  
Grinding his palm into his left eyesocket where stabs of pain made his vision blurry, Renji shoved the door to his quarters open and stumbled inside. Passing out in bed was first on his agenda and then tomorrow, he would find Izuru and make things right.  
  
Somehow.   
  
Except ... the lights in his quarters were already on. Renji could have sworn that he'd left them off before leaving for the day. He stood dumbfounded in his doorway, reiatsu rising in the face of a possible threat, thumb slipping his blade free of its sheath. Until he recognized the form that slid out from behind one of the folding screens. Blond, slight, and possibly apologetic.  
  
“Izuru? What are you...?”   
  
Renji never completed his sentence, his arms suddenly full of Izuru and Renji's mouth covered by the blond's own. Izuru's lips were pliant, tasting of anise, his body warm as it pressed against Renji's. His palms were soft where he cupped Renji's jaw, and his strong fingers gentle where they buried themselves in the strands of hair at Renji's nape.  
  
Renji was too shocked to respond and when Izuru drew back, there was something in his blue eyes that Renji had never seen before. “I like you,” the blond said, out of nowhere. “I like you, Renji. And I always have.”   
  
“I...” Renji blinked, utterly confused. “What?”   
  
Izuru sighed, knocking his head against Renji's shoulder, his fingers refusing to relinquish their hold. “I've liked you since we were in the Academy together. But you never so much as hinted that it would be returned, so I kept it to myself.” He chuckled lightly, but the laugh was bitter. “You were always looking at Kuchiki-san. Even when she thought you weren't.”   
  
Renji was flabbergasted. He would have never suspected, not in his wildest dreams, that Izuru had... had... had _crushed_ on him. He never noticed. They were friends, casual friends and classmates, but Renji never thought to look closer.  
  
Izuru _liked_ him even back then?  
  
It just blew his mind, and well, it was pretty damn flattering too. It was knowledge of such import and power that it short-circuited Renji's brain. While even Renji was willing to admit that that wasn't hard ... it blew his mind. Along with being pretty damn flattering too.  
  
“I... then you're not mad at me?” Renji asked. He was pretty sure that these were not the "right" words to say, but words ... words were untrustworthy. They weren't like a sword. Words ... swords ... Kira ... his alcohol-fuzzed brain couldn't seem to connect things.  
  
The blond shook his head, fingers dropping from their hold on Renji's chin to grasp his other shoulder. “I was, at first, but after I thought about it, I realized that I wasn't angry at you for the reasons I told you, but for something else entirely. And even then, I couldn't fault you for doing what you did. You didn't know and I didn't explain.”   
  
Huh. Hisagi-senpai was right. Seemed liked he knew Renji and Izuru better than they knew themselves.   
  
... that was kind of freaky.   
  
“I don't pity you, ya know,” Renji said, one big thumb stroking Izuru's cheek, because he felt that it needed to be said. “Yer one of the strongest guys I know. And I don't think yer pathetic either. I just...”   
  
"Wanted to help" was stuck on the tip of his tongue. But that could be interpreted wrongly, too.   
  
Renji sighed. “Yer my friend, Izuru. What kind of guy would I be if I looked the other way when I thought you were in trouble? Sometimes, there're things we just can't solve ourselves.”   
  
Ichigo had taught him that. Ichigo never asked for help, but he always needed it. And Ichigo was the strongest kid that Renji knew. That spectacled brat Ishida was the same way: never asking for help, but needing it all the same. And Renji didn't think of either of them as weak.  
  
It wasn't weak to need help sometimes. Renji had finally come to understand that.   
  
“I know.” Izuru looked up at him, something discomfited behind his blue eyes, before he shook his head. “Never mind, it's embarrassing. I'm not going to explain it.”   
  
“Explain what?”   
  
Izuru didn't answer. Instead he grabbed Renji's arm and steered him away from the wall, navigating Renji around his screens to his futon.  
  
The redhead followed because his feet were still unsteady; but Izuru seemed to have some plan in mind. Renji would let him take the lead as long as it meant Izuru wasn't pissed at him anymore.   
  
Renji was more or less pushed onto the futon where he sprawled gracelessly, head spinning, as Izuru disappeared into the kitchen. He re-emerged later with a cup of water and a couple of pain pills, fanservice to the inevitable morning hangover.  
  
“Thanks,” Renji said, taking the offered relief as Izuru dropped down beside him, Renji's lover looking as if he wanted to say something but not sure how to phrase it.  
  
The blond rubbed his hands over his knees and thighs, looking everywhere but at Renji. The shadows under his eyes were darker than they had been as of late, and Renji felt a stir of guilt for causing them.   
  
“It was consensual,” Izuru suddenly blurted, fingers twisting around themselves in his lap. “All of it. I started it. Ichimaru only did what I asked of him.”   
  
“Izuru...”   
  
The blond shook his head. “No. I'm going to tell you because you have to understand. You can't hate him. At least, not for what he did to me.”   
  
Renji had reasons to despise Ichimaru that had nothing to do with Kira. Reasons like being tossed around like some kind of toy.   
  
Even given that, Renji couldn't seem to hate Ichimaru though. The traitor was just weird in all kinds of ways, his strange mannerisms and actions defying definition. Renji had always known something wasn't quite right behind those red eyes. But, like all of Seireitei, he had never put it all together.  
  
“Fine, I won't hate him for that. But I still got my own reasons, an' they got to do with the shit way he played me,” Renji groused, fiddling with the half-drunk cup of water. “He could've told me th' truth instead of playin' games.”   
  
Izuru inclined his head. “Granted. But... he probably thought he was helping me.”   
  
Renji snorted. “ _Helping_ you? I find that hard to believe.”   
  
A hand fell on his arm, squeezing warmly. “He's not a bad person.”   
  
“Ya keep saying that,” Renji muttered. Izuru's touch somehow made him want to pull away ... perhaps it was because he was thinking about Ichimaru. Thinking about him, and then talking about him.   
  
It made his skin crawl with memory.  
  
“He's a sadistic, manipulative bastard. And yet ya keep saying he's a good person. I don't get it, Izuru.”   
  
To his credit, the blond didn't flinch. He only sighed. “You wouldn't. It's always been easy for you.”   
  
Renji's brow furrowed in utter confusion, until he realized that Izuru's words seemed to echo a past.   
  
_“How'm I supposed to get it?” Renji demanded, aghast.  
  
“You won't. Not the way you are.” Izuru's eyes were wild, a far shade from their normal blue. “It's always been easy for you. Making friends. Getting stronger. Finding your place.”   
  
The blond's body trembled with conflicting emotions, barreling on as though he hadn't stunned Renji with his first words alone. “I thought I would do anything to protect him. Because if he just patted me on the head, told me I had done right, nothing could ever go wrong. And now I'm all alone again. He left me and I'm just useless after all.”_  
  
Ichimaru had always been the only one who ever gave Izuru a chance.   
  
It clicked together with an uncomfortable logic, one that Renji didn't want to admit, but had to grudgingly acknowledge. Why else would Izuru go to Ichimaru? Because Ichimaru was the only one who ever accepted him. And suddenly, Renji wondered if Ichimaru might have been planning for this – for Renji to end up with Izuru -- all along.   
  
He dragged a hand down his face. “Ichimaru... he said somethin' to me when I was in Hueco Mundo. Somethin' about... knowin' things from the start.” Renji shook his head. “That bastard kept tellin' me I was misunderstandin'.”   
  
“That sounds like him,” Izuru said quietly, his fingers squeezing Renji's arm again. “I'm wondering if this wasn't some huge manipulation on his part myself.”   
  
“This?” Renji repeated, and dragged his eyes the blond's direction. “Ya mean... you and me?”   
  
Izuru shrugged, though the gesture was far from nonchalant. “He knew I liked you,” he said, blue eyes skipping to the side. “A lot of people did. Apparently, I don't hide it very well.”   
  
Renji snorted. “ _I_ didn't know.”   
  
“Renji, you're not exactly the most perceptive person I know.”  
  
“Hey! I at least got Iba-san beat.”   
  
“That's not really saying much.”   
  
Renji twisted his jaw, but his annoyance passed when Izuru chuckled again, dissolving a tension that had been steadily rising, like some kind of emotional red tide, flooding the room and rising, rising, threatening to drown them both.  
  
Izuru was no longer angry with him, Renji realized, and that was a weight off his shoulders.   
  
Beside him, Izuru shifted, capturing Renji's attention. “With all that said,” Izuru began, taking in a deep breath, “I don't want to end this.” He sounded uncertain, as though expecting Renji to throw his words back in his face.   
  
Words had proven time and time again to fail Renji. They tended to get twisted up, coming out a messy tangle that always got him into trouble. Actions had always spoken much, much louder. He knew exactly what to do, if never quite what to say.  
  
He kissed Izuru, practically pulling the blond into his lap to seal their mouths together. Izuru felt all warm and snug in his arms, his scent filtering through to Renji's senses and making him stir. It had been so long since he touched Izuru like this, and it felt so much like coming home.   
  
Izuru aggressively returned the kiss, their tongues sliding slippery together. And Renji's hands ghosted up Izuru's back, feeling the shifting of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shihakushou. Despite the alcohol sluggishly pushing warmth through his limbs, Renji really wanted to strip Izuru naked right here and now and drag his tongue down the blond's bare chest.   
  
Fingers buried themselves in Renji's hair, loosening the sloppy braid, and Izuru made a sound in his throat that shot straight to Renji's groin. The redhead groaned into the kiss, his hand pushing Izuru tightly against him.   
  
Reality intruded, reminding him that a kiss was an answer, but sometimes words were important too.   
  
Renji's lips broke away from Izuru's, tracing a path along his jaw that tasted vaguely of the blond's sweat, moving to nibble on Izuru's ear. Izuru rocked against him, his knees pressing against Renji's side, his voice a breathy gasp that ended in a moan. One of Renji's hands dropped lower, cupping a rounded backside, fingers kneading the soft flesh. Clothes were rapidly becoming a hindrance, Renji noted.   
  
Hands dropped to Renji's shoulders with a hard shove, and Renji – lacking his usual balance – toppled backwards. He hit the ground with a grunt, not that he minded too terribly, not when Izuru followed him down. Warm lips traced a hot path over Renji's bared throat, Izuru's knee nudging between Renji's legs and massaging at his groin.  
  
Renji moaned, one hand clutching at his futon as the other buried itself in blond hair. His head fell back, and Renji dragged his tongue over his lips, savoring the lingering taste of Izuru. Hands worked busily at his shitagi, fingers pulling open his obi and parting the layers of clothes.   
  
A warm mouth worked its way down Renji's chest, tracing jagged dark lines. Izuru had some obsession with Renji's tattoos.  
  
Renji didn't mind.  
  
It was sexy.  
  
In fact, now that he considered it, there was not much about Izuru that wasn't sexy.  
  
His cock shoved at the barrier of his hakama, desperate to be freed, and Renji forgot about all the important questions he should be asking, and the answers he should be demanding. He pushed all of that away in the wake of the pleasurable things Izuru was waking inside of him.  
  
Izuru was a smart guy. No doubt he already knew that Renji loved him; he would save those words for later.  
  
* * * *   
  
The sound of the key in the lock seemed even louder in the silence and musty stillness of the holding cells. Renji couldn't help but be a little nervous, though he tried to hide it behind a mask of resolve. He wasn't sure, exactly, why he was here. Renji knew it wasn't to gloat. He just felt a need to see Ichimaru one last time, to put a lid on something that had spanned the better part of a few years.  
  
“Ten minutes,” the Shinigami guard reminded him sternly, looking perturbed at being forced to allow Renji to see his precious prisoner. But he didn't have a choice. Renji had permission and far be it from the guard to disobey the soutaichou.   
  
Why Renji had been given permission probably had something to do with Kuchiki-taichou's insistence. And why Kuchiki-taichou had been so willing to help his vice-captain, Renji didn't know. Probably because there was little threat left in Ichimaru. And well, they doubted Renji was planning to loose Ichimaru on Soul Society. Either way, Renji wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.   
  
Inclining his head, Renji spared the guard a nod. “Yeah, I got it. I don't even think I'll need that long.”   
  
Huffing, the guard closed the door behind Renji with a violent thud, making the vice-captain flinch. Sighing to himself, Renji squared his shoulders and focused on the barred cell, and its occupant just beyond the metal. Ichimaru had likely noticed his presence, and that assumption was confirmed when Ichimaru's voice spilled through the space between them.   
  
“Why, Renji-kun, how good of ya to visit. And here I was gettin' lonely.”   
  
The former captain emerged from the darkness, wearing nothing more than a plain grey yukata, and looking paler than Renji thought possible. His face was carefully blank of expression, even his usual smile, and his tone betrayed his attempt at nonchalance.  
  
Surprise and loneliness warred for supremacy on the former taichou's face.   
  
Unusually for Ichimaru, loneliness won.  
  
Renji let Ichimaru's initial words pass over him. He knew that Ichimaru was probably trying to goad him in some way. Granted, that wasn't a difficult thing to accomplish, so Renji held hard onto his composure. He still wasn't sure why he was here, but he was sure that anger would not help him to achieve his goal.  
  
“Why didn't ya jes tell me the truth?” Renji asked, sliding further into the room, until he stood just before the bars, but not within reach.  
  
Ichimaru's head tipped to the side. “Would ya have listened?”   
  
Yes. No. Maybe. Renji really couldn't be sure. But -- he was talking to Ichimaru, here. “Course I would've.”   
  
The former captain chuckled. “Liar.”   
  
Renji flushed, his eyes skipping away from Ichimaru. “Ya took advantage of me.”  
  
“I'm goin' ta call it takin' advantage of a gift that's been presented ta me,” Ichimaru corrected in a purr. “ _You_ came ta _me_ , Renji-kun. How could I resist?”  
  
The vice-captain snorted. “Ya just like playin' games with people.”   
  
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Ichimaru looked at him, and Renji met his gaze, wondering why eye contact with Ichimaru bothered him so much less than it once did.  
  
One hand curled around the bars of Ichimaru's cell, very thin and gaunt.   
  
“But I was right in the end, wasn't I?”   
  
“About what?”   
  
In the half-light, Ichimaru's silver hair seemed white as snow. “Ya love 'im, don't ya?”   
  
Renji winced, resisting the urge to retreat, hating that the traitor could read him so easily.  
  
He didn't answer, and Ichimaru gave a low chuckle which echoed hollowly in the cell. “Izuru-chan's a good kid. So ya better take care of 'im, Abarai-kun. Treat 'im right.”  
  
“I don't need you to tell me that,” Renji snapped, hostility rising over him like a cold tide, as though Ichimaru were challenging him, impotent as he had been rendered.  
  
Renji could not be sure of much about Ichimaru Gin, but he knew that he was stronger, now, than the traitor. That realization didn't fill the redhead with any sense of superiority as he had half-expected, half-hoped, it might. This new Renji asked himself, what was there to be proud of in that?  
  
Ichimaru looked at him, his slit eyes opening to reveal the red of the irises beneath. “Why'd ya come here, Abarai-kun? Didja miss me?”   
  
Renji snorted, folding his arms over his chest. He didn't have an answer.   
  
He was here because ... because it felt right. Natural. Like being here was the next logical step. With everything over and done, Ichimaru was the only piece of the puzzle not in place, and Renji had come hoping to finally click Ichimaru into his place.   
  
Because, while Izuru had explained a lot, even he could not explain Ichimaru. Even he could not tell what Ichimaru was thinking.  
  
“Or mebbe you jes wanted ta thank me,” Ichimaru continued slyly.  
  
“An' maybe I was just makin' sure yer rotting here where ya belong,” Renji growled.  
  
The silver-haired man frowned. “That wasn't very nice, Renji-kun. And after all I've done fer ya, too.”   
  
Renji wanted to snarl in return, to ask Ichimaru what the hell he thought Renji should be grateful for, but the former captain had a point. It was a cruel thing to say, and it felt a lot like kicking a man in the face with steel-toed boots when he was already curled up on the ground. Renji hadn't thought himself that kind of person.   
  
Besides, in some small way, he did owe Ichimaru something. Maybe. _Possibly_. If Renji thought about it hard and admitted some things he would never say aloud. _Ever_. Any possible gratitude he owed Ichimaru Gin was a truth he planned to take to his grave.   
  
The redhead sighed, eyes sliding away from the traitor. “Does it matter why I'm here?”   
  
Renji just wanted to understand... _something_. He understood Izuru. He didn't understand Ichimaru. He didn't understand why Ichimaru allowed everyone to believe he was the ultimate villain. Or why he defected to the side of a man who easily tossed aside his own allies.   
  
Why?  
  
“Does it?” Ichimaru repeated, tipping his head to the side.   
  
“Tell me it wasn't just a game,” Renji demanded, and even then, he wasn't sure if he meant Ichimaru's involvement with -- use of? -- himself or Izuru. “Tell me he's important to you.”   
  
“Why does it matter?”  
  
Renji didn't know himself, but he felt it was important. He felt that he needed to know, needed to understand the _reason_ behind all of Ichimaru's subtle manipulations. To put faith in Izuru's belief that Ichimaru wasn't a completely awful person.  
  
“Just tell me,” Renji repeated.   
  
Ichimaru chuckled again. “Didn't ya ever stop ta wonder why, Abarai-kun?”   
  
Blinking, the redhead frowned. “What the hell are ya talking about?”   
  
Cerise eyes glittered at him, reflecting off the flickering torches. “Why ya caught a glimpse of us that day when ya never had before. When Kira knew good 'n well that ya would come an' get 'im.”   
  
Renji fell back, unsure of what Ichimaru was hinting at. “Ya tryin' ta tell me that Izuru planned it?”   
  
“Izuru-chan's not that crafty,” Ichimaru corrected with a low hum in his throat. “Ya should know that, Abarai-kun.”   
  
Renji stood rooted to the ground as realization swept over him. _Ichimaru_ had planned this. _Ichimaru_.  
  
Why?  
  
Behind Renji, the door to the cell swung open as someone knocked. “Time's up, Abarai-fukutaichou,” the Shinigami guard huffed.   
  
How much had the man heard? Renji's head snapped around. But then he realized that he didn't care. It didn't matter. Just as Ichimaru himself was of no moment any longer, it didn't matter.  
  
Ichimaru chuckled, taking the distraction as a reason to slide back into the shadows of his cell. There was a squeak as he dropped back down onto the mattress. “Seems like ya won't get yer answer after all, Abarai-kun.”   
  
“Ichimaru!”   
  
The guard cleared his throat noisily, rapping the base of his weapon against the ground. “Abarai-fukutaichou,” he repeated, warningly.   
  
Renji snarled in frustration and abandoned the dank cell. Nothing more was heard from Ichimaru as the vice-captain spun on his heel and stalked towards the door.   
  
Renji’s hands curled into annoyed fists at his side. Why couldn't Ichimaru ever simply answer a question? He preferred always to create more mysteries, himself remaining shrouded at their center.  
  
Renji glared at the Shinigami guard. To his credit, the man didn't even flinch. Then again, he had been chosen to guard their most dangerous prisoner, and was probably selected for the size of his balls. No, a glare from a mere fukutaichou wasn't even on this guy's radar.  
  
Stepping back into the main hallway, Renji drew to a sudden halt at first sight of the man waiting for him. “Kuchiki-taichou? What are you...?”  
  
“Is your business complete?” his captain asked crisply, not betraying a hint of emotion.   
  
Renji forced his hands to uncurl, nodding slowly. “Yes, taichou. But...” he trailed off as Kuchiki-taichou turned away from him, heading down the corridor towards the exit. Renji really had no choice but to follow.   
  
He glanced once more over his shoulder at the guarded room. It had only been a couple of days since the end of the war. Renji knew that they had severed Ichimaru's soukatsui as a precaution. But what were they going to do with him now besides that?   
  
“Taichou... what are they gonna do with him?”   
  
“With Ichimaru? Execution, perhaps.”  
  
Renji suppressed a shudder, though he knew that was the logical outcome. “Ah...”   
  
Really, he should hate the former captain ... traitor. He should loathe Ichimaru with every inch of his being. But strangely, those emotions were absent.   
  
Did he feel pity?   
  
Renji wasn't sure.   
  
“You are concerned,” Kuchiki-taichou said, his scarf that white flutter behind him that which Renji had long since learned to associate with the man.   
  
Renji shook his head. “No. I just...” He wasn't sure what he wanted to say, lifting a hand to rub the back of his head.   
  
The other man paused in the middle of the corridor, turning back to look at Renji with his usual expressionless face.  
  
Renji shook his head, moving past his captain. “No, it's nothing I can explain, Kuchiki-taichou,” Renji said, finality is his tone. He sure as hell wasn't going to try to explain it to his captain either. That's the last thing he wanted to do.   
  
“I will speak on his behalf,” Kuchiki-taichou said from behind Renji.   
  
The vice-captain, stunned, stopped dead still in surprise. “What? But ya don't have to...”   
  
“On occasion, the Shinigami should exhibit mercy, Abarai-fukutaichou. It is what separates us from the enemy,” his captain explained, moving past him and leaving Renji standing there in the middle of the corridor gaping like a fool. “Now come. You are weeks behind in your paperwork and I am not doing it for you.”   
  
Renji's mouth clamped shut, and he jogged to catch up to his captain's fast pace. “Ah, yes sir. Thank you.”   
  
Kuchiki-taichou inclined his head, and didn't speak again.   
  
Renji couldn't shake off his feeling of relief. That didn't mean he knew why he didn't want to see Ichimaru executed, or why he cared.  
  
Renji figured that it didn't matter. That was the past, right? He should be looking to the future. With Izuru.   
  
Yeah, that sounded just fine to him.   


***


End file.
